The Atlantic Titan
by Everything Entertainment
Summary: In this dramatization of the sinking of the RMS Titanic, a fictional cast of characters, including steward Eren Jaeger, First-Class passenger Levi Ackerman, and others board the infamous liner on her maiden voyage. As disaster draws near, difficult choices are made as our main leads witness life and loss from one of history's greatest tragedies. (1912!AU)
1. Prologue - Voyage of Uncertainty

**A/N: This is a very ambitious project that I've been working on for awhile. I've always been a novice when it came to Titanic, so when I thought about making a story for it, almost immediately I thought about the characters from Attack on Titan since the canonical story had such a dramatic punch to it. I worked on this concept while coming up with some ideas that would make the story more interesting.**

**Keep in mind, this isn't based on the James Cameron film, this is mostly based on the real events of the Titanic disaster, except it has some fictional elements that are there to make the plot adaptable to the main characters; speaking of which, there are historical figures that appear in this story and I want them to be treated respectfully and not as campy or corny characters from a work of fiction (and I'm not saying this to be ironic, by the way, I genuinely do not want to be disrespectful to the families or distant relatives of those who were on Titanic).**

**Also, I do not own the characters of Attack on Titan, they belong to the creator, Hajime Isayama, as well as the publishers of the manga.** **I won't be leaving any Author's Notes with the exception of this chapter, as I want the flow of this story to feel more natural as you're going through each chapter.**

**And, now, in memory of the 1,496 people who lost their lives at sea over a century ago, here is The Atlantic Titan...**

* * *

**Prologue**

_Atlantic Ocean_

_April 15th, 1912_

The deathly still waters of the cold Atlantic gracefully basked under the starry night that overlooked the world's darkest abyss. The eerie calm was a peaceful ambience to the calm ripples that moved with enlightenment. White lifeboats disturbed this quiet air as the oars hammered the surface, and the abhorrent yells and commands of sailors broke the silent tension.

In the distance, flickering lights of a former floating city reflected off the surface of the glassy sea. The iron hull faded with the darkness, so only the glowing radiance made by the generators kept it from dissipating in the night. The people that watched from afar could only imagine the fate that awaited those who were left to wander the slanting decks and fall victim to the rising danger.

In one of these lifeboats, a dark-haired girl wearing a red scarf and a life belt donned over her clothing, watched with sad eyes as the ship dipped ever so slowly. The people that sat beside her in the boat were stricken with worry and grief for the loved ones that were still aboard. The girl caressed her scarf tenderly; she thought about the one that she cared most deeply for… the one that she was forced to leave behind.

Neatly stacked dishes fell off of their shelves and cubbies, shattering upon hitting the floor; chairs, tables, and other furniture sliding and crashing into nearby walls. Cold, freezing water bursting through the narrow corridors of the upper decks. A populace of nobles, clergymen, immigrants, and seamen alike; men, women and children, stranded and left to die in an atrocity crafted by both Man and God.

A church hymn played on over the bangs and moans of the ship by an ethereal orchestra. Groaning and creaking metal echoed from inside the mechanical structure. Three massive propellers rose above the water. Four smokestacks leaned towards the submerged bow; the first one, ripped from its moorings, collapses and falls down on top of the unlucky swimmers below.

Like herds of animals, the passengers and crew migrated in droves towards the stern section. Dozens leaping into the frigid inky blackness, bobbing like barrels with the aid of life belts. A pastor and his parishioners standing on the aft section prayed to their god, choosing to accept their divine fates.

The front half, now swallowed by the sea as the port side listed, has now taken the second funnel down along with it while an eruption of fire bellowed from the top. The building panic grew louder; water formed in foaming waves roared up the promenade decks; the people in the water, now prey to the cold, swam away from the sinking vessel. The lights were extinguished in the blink of an eye. An echo of snapping metal and breaking wood sang in the night. Geysers of water splashed as the stern fell backwards into the sea.

Two pieces divided while throngs of helpless souls were dragged down with them. The feeling of a cold void was the last sensation felt by over 1,500 people.

RMS Titanic has foundered.

* * *

**The Atlantic Titan**

**Chapter 1:**

**Voyage of Uncertainty**

_4 1/2 Days Earlier_

_Southampton, England_

_April 10th, 1912, 9:25 a.m._

Morning light shined through a window that illuminated a room; a stateroom, decorated and designed with intricate wooden panels, fine carpet, light fixtures and expensive furniture, is presented as one of many scenes that depicted the high standards of luxury. A bed sheet fluttered in the air as a pair of hands flattened the fabric against the bed. A young girl in a stewardess outfit then pulled the comforter, tucking the corners underneath the mattress.

The girl, who had dark hair, dark eyes and a neutral gaze, was tidying the room for the impending arrival of a guest that would soon occupy it. After cleaning up any remnants of dirt that obscured the clean condition of the stateroom, she exits the room and closes the door behind her.

She calmly walked past other crew members that passed by her in the hallway as she was approached by another stewardess; the second stewardess had reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. Her name was Sasha Braus, a Third Class stewardess.

"Miss Ackerman? Have you finished cleaning your assigned rooms yet?" asked Sasha.

"Yes, Sasha," The dark-haired stewardess replied, whose real name was Mikasa Ackerman. "By the way, you don't have to give me any formalities, just call me by my first name."

Sasha sighed. "Wow, for a newcomer, you're quite a hard worker, Mikasa. This is my first time on an ocean liner-a White Star one, no less-and I'm still trying to get the hang of things. You seem like a natural at this job."

"Thank you for your high praise, but really I'm just here to do my job right," Mikasa said in a modest manner.

"Well, the way I see it, you may be the best addition to the Victualling service," Sasha said sincerely, adding a complimentary grin.

"Aren't you supposed to be assigned to the Third Class area? These are the First Class staterooms, you know." reminded Mikasa.

"Huh? Oh, crap, you're right! I'm not even supposed to be here!" Sasha exclaimed as she scurried down the hall, rushing past another stewardess carrying a stack of folded linens in her arms who noticed the other girl go by.

"Let me guess, newcomer?" The stewardess inquired as she spoke with an Irish accent.

"That was just Sasha, she's working in Third Class," Mikasa replied.

"Aye, and you're new as well?" The woman asked as she extended a hand to Mikasa. "How do you do? My name is Violet Jessop, you may call me Violet, if you wish."

Mikasa grasped Violet's palm and shook her hand gingerly. "Mikasa Ackerman."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mikasa," Violet smiled with a welcoming disposition. "I do hope your first voyage goes well. Being a stewardess is not an easy job. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I am sure of it," Mikasa responded.

"Well, if you need help, just let me or the other stewardesses know," Violet advised. "By the way, could you help me stock the linen closets? There's quite a lot of fabric that needs to be put away."

Mikasa gave an affirmative nod as she took half of Violet's stack as the two continued on down the First Class corridor. Once they strolled past the double doors of the galley, a steward pushing a trolley full of dishes and silverware came out of the galley nearly colliding with the two women.

"Oh, watch out!" Violet raised her voice while the steward pulled back the trolley to avoid hitting the two women; a teacup fell from the trolley, which was halfway to hitting the floor.

Instead of shattering to pieces, however, the cup was caught by Mikasa's spare left hand; her right hand held the small stack of linens as she crouched down to pick the cup up. She delicately places the teacup back onto the trolley as she shifts her cemented poker face to the steward as the latter stared back at her in bewilderment.

"Please be careful next time. We don't want to waste precious china on this ship," Mikasa said as she lightly chastised the clumsy steward.

"Oh, I deeply apologize, Miss. I should've watched where I was going," The man replied, speaking with an English accent as he pushed his trolley and went about his regular duty.

Violet, who was also flabbergasted by the dark-haired girl's coordinated actions, looked at her with a surprised expression. "That was… a nice catch."

"Fortunately, I was able to prevent the accident in time, otherwise there'd be one less cup of tea served for one less passenger." Mikasa said meticulously.

"You're quite committed to your part, Miss Ackerman," The Irish woman said with astonishment.

"Now, then, which way is the linen closet?" Mikasa inquired as Violet pointed down the hallway as they both continued onward.

* * *

_9:30 a.m._

Outside in the bright sunshine of an early April morning, a mighty ship, the RMS Titanic, was docked in the port of Southampton as it sat idly by while an enormous crowd of people that stretched all the way to the end of the pier looked on at the ship's massive port side with awe. As if an important ceremony was about to take place, the crowd waited in anticipation for the vessel's grand departure like it was about to be an historical event; and, rightfully so, it soon will be.

Cargo cranes loaded the ocean liner with various cargo in barrels and wooden crates into the ship's hold. Ramps that were placed on the pier were pushed towards Titanic's hull as her gangway doors opened, connecting the ship to the dock and allowing access to anyone who boarded the liner.

Back on board the ship, crew members that were working on the upper decks had a clear view of the pier below them. Two stewards were arranging deck chairs as one of them leaned over the enclosed railing on the A-Deck Promenade, looking down on the people standing on the dock.

"Wow, look at that crowd, Armin. There's so many people here," said the young steward, who had short brown hair and teal eyes.

"I'm not at all surprised," The second steward named Armin, who had short blonde hair and blue eyes, said with a smirk. He leans a folded deck chair against the nearest wall as he turned to his friend, "This is the biggest ship that the White Star Line has ever launched, aside from the Olympic, of course."

The brown-haired steward nodded. "More like the biggest in the world. At least it seems that way."

"Yup, this is what all the hype has been building up to," said the blond-haired boy as he rested his arms on the railing. "But, someday, however, I'm gonna build a ship that's even bigger AND faster than Titanic."

"I can't wait to see that," The brown-haired boy grinned hopefully.

"What about you, Eren; you said you wanted to join the Royal Navy, right?" The blond boy asked his friend.

"Yeah, but… I'm not old enough to join. Maybe being a crew member on this ship will help give me some experience at sea." The boy named Eren replied.

"I don't think working as a steward for First Class passengers is the Navy's forté," The blond boy said sheepishly.

"Well, neither would a ship designer," Eren retorted.

"On the contrary, studying this ship's interior and exterior designs might give me some inspiration," The blond boy replied as he pulled out a sketchbook and pencil and started sketching the Promenade deck. "I've already finished the floor plan on the boat deck; now I just need to sketch the rest of A-Deck."

"You've been carrying that sketchbook everywhere you go for a few years, haven't you?" Eren asked.

"Only when I get a chance to observe a ship that comes by every once in awhile," The blond boy said. "Hopefully, I'll be able to draw out the entire ship by the time we get to New York."

"Oy, Jaeger, Arlert!" shouted a steward who came up to the two boys. "We've got passengers coming aboard! You best be ready for them!"

"Yes, sir!" Eren and Armin said in unison as they went off to do their assigned duties.

* * *

_Boiler Room No. 6_

Down in the underbelly of Titanic, firemen (or stokers) and trimmers, were preparing to ignite the ship's massive boilers in preparation for the impending voyage. The leading firemen shouted orders as the crew of coal-workers carried out the commands of their superiors.

Among these men was a young man with light-brown eyes, and a short, light ash-brown undercut; he also donned long pants, a white undershirt and leather boots. His hands and face were already covered in soot from shoveling coal into the furnaces.

"Damn, it's so hot in here," The young man griped as his forehead dripped with sweat. "It would be nice if they had some air conditioning down here."

"Really, Jean? You're not giving up now, are you? I've seen you dump coal into those boilers like a machine during the sea trials." A fellow soot-stained stoker said jokingly; he had short dark hair, freckles and wore a long sleeved button-up shirt, pants and boots.

"I was going through an internal struggle at that point, Marco." The first stoker named Jean Kirschtein said as he frowned.

"Come on, you're one of the best manpower we've got in this hot box," The dark-haired stoker named Marco Bodt said.

"I do have some quality muscles, after all," Jean boasted as he flexed his bicep. "To be frank though, I should've signed on to be a commanding officer up on deck."

"I don't think you'd be qualified for the job," Marco said doubtfully.

"Maybe not now, but just you wait," Jean said with a smug grin. "I'll be in charge of my own crew one day. Hell, I might even be captain."

"Is that so?" said a condescending English accent as Jean turned around to see Frederick Barrett, one of the lead stokers, standing behind him.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Barrett," Jean said sheepishly.

"If you really want to move up in the world, I suggest you get your rear in gear and start moving coal, horse face." ordered Barrett. Jean scowled in embarrassment while Marco chuckled at the obscure comment.

Just then, one of the trimmers named Daz was shoveling a pile of coal from one of the coal bunkers when a mountain of coal came down on top of him.

"HELP! SOMEBODY TURN ON THE LIGHTS!" Daz shouted, whose screams were drowned out by the chunks of coal.

"Goddammit, not again," Fred sweared as he went over to help dig out the unlucky trimmer.

"Well, at least I'm not a trimmer like Daz," Jean retorted.

"Honestly, I wouldn't mind either way as long as I get paid," Marco said modestly. "Maybe once I'm able to earn enough money to live in America, I could help support my Mom and kid brother back in Liverpool."

"Didn't you say you wanted to join the army there?" Jean inquired.

Marco nodded. "Yeah, I've always wanted to help people. That's why I want to join the American military, so that I can build more discipline, you know?"

"I get'cha," Jean replied. "Hey, you don't think I look like a horse, do you?"

"Depends, do you come with a saddle?" teased the dark-haired lad, which made Jean roll his eyes.

* * *

_11:00 a.m._

Hundreds of passengers arriving by the dozen have already boarded the ship as people from different social backgrounds went through their respective queues. Wealthy First-Class and humble Second-Class passengers went up the elevated gangway ramps to the upper decks of the luxurious liner, but not before presenting their boarding passes to the officers in the gangway.

Third-Class went through a similar process; however, before any of them could step onto the ramp, each passenger had to go through an inspection queue so that the likelihood of a viral infection or an infestation of parasites would be kept to a minimum. Emigrants and lower-class citizens were among the majority of the miscellaneous souls that booked a passage aboard the biggest man-made object that ever sailed the Atlantic.

As for the more fortunate travelers, dozens of passengers with high-class reservations came to Southampton's port via train or vehicle. One automobile in particular arrived at the pier as the driver parked the vehicle and dismounted the car and pulled open the side passenger door; a prominent man with blonde hair, bold eyebrows, and dressed in formal morning attire, stepped out of the carriage.

"So this is the ship that we'll be returning home in?" The blond man inquired.

"Well, it was only one of the few ships that didn't get screwed over by that coal strike a month ago," said a sardonic male voice as another man emerged from the vehicle; he was a fairly short man with short black hair who wore a similar outfit in comparison to the blond man and donned a cravat around his neck. "Consider yourself lucky since we don't have to extend our vacation time here in Europe."

Another person stepped out of the automobile as well, who was revealed to be a woman with dark brown hair tied into a ponytail and brown eyes; she wore rectangular glasses and a casual, but presentable dress, which was slightly in contrast with the men's formal style.

She looks up at the towering port side of the ship that stood out like a monument among the other vessels that were docked in the area. The woman's eyes glimmered with radiance and ecstatic passion as she gazed at the ship.

"She's… she's beautiful," She said with a joyful expression and tears in her eyes. "Just look at her gorgeous port side and her massive hull! And those funnels, oh… those may be the finest cylinder smokestacks that I have ever seen! I can tell, she's more seaworthy than any other liner around this barnacle-encrusted barge!"

"Just what are you going on about, Hange? It's just a big-ass ship," The shorter man replied.

"She's more than just a big ship, Levi!" The woman addressed as Hange Zoë explained to the man named Levi Ackerman. "That is the Royal Mail Steamer, Titanic! Everyone in the United Kingdom has been talking about her since the day she was laid down in Belfast!"

"I see, so this is the new Olympic Class liner the White Star Line has been advertising for awhile now?" surmised the blonde man named Erwin Smith. "I will admit, it certainly does look remarkable for a British ship."

"And we're one of the first people to set sail on her maiden voyage! Ooh, I'm getting all tingly just thinking about it!" Hange shivered with excitement.

"You're not gonna have another major freak out like you did on the Mauretania, are you, Four-Eyes?" Levi asked cautiously.

"Trust me, Levi, I can keep my composure this time around," assured the eccentric woman as she took a deep breath and corrected her demeanor.

"Well, then, we don't have time to stand around all day; let's gather our belongings and board the ship as soon as possible," Erwin said urgently.

Levi and Hange nodded sincerely as the driver assisted them in unloading their luggage from the back of the carriage.

"After the ship leaves Southampton, it will make a few port of calls to Cherbourg and Queenstown," Erwin elaborated. "The rest of the Ackerman party will arrive in Cherbourg as planned."

"According to our boarding passes, our staterooms should be located on B-Deck," Levi said as he pulled out his boarding pass for Titanic.

"We are going to be staying in separate rooms, right?" Hange asked.

"As per the norm," Levi replied as the trio made their way towards the First-Class boarding ramps.

Erwin went up the ramp first while Levi and Hange followed close behind him; one woman that preceded the trio stood before the officer at the gangway door.

"Good morning, ma'am, do you have your boarding pass with you?" The officer inquired.

"Certainly," The woman said politely as she showed her boarding pass to the officer, who studied the pass and gave a nod of confirmation to her.

"All right, you may come aboard. Right this way, please," The officer directed the woman towards the gangway entrance as she stepped through the threshold. Erwin, Levi, and Hange approached the officer as they presented their passes. "Good morning, sir. Are you all traveling together?"

"Indeed. We're from the Ackerman party," said Erwin.

"I see," The officer said as he analyzed Erwin's pass. "'Erwin Smith,' is it? And you're embarking with a party of seven?"

"Yes, the other members are joining us on our first port of call," The blond man replied.

"All right, let me just check the rest of your passes," The officer said as Levi and Hange gave him their passes. "'Levi Ackerman' and 'Hange Zoë,' Ackerman party. Well, then, everything checks out, welcome to Titanic."

Erwin nodded as he walks through the gangway threshold as Levi soon followed; but not before Hange glances back at the officer in the gangway. "You know, you should be quite honored that you get to serve on the largest moving object ever made by man."

"Ah, I'm humbled, ma'am. After all, not even God himself can sink this ship," The officer said boastingly as he smiled.

"Oh, yeah? Well, God also has a sense of humor," Levi retorted. "If I were you, I probably wouldn't put my money where my mouth is."

Hange grinned sheepishly. "Don't mind him, he's a bit of an extreme realist."

"None taken, ma'am. So long as you and your group enjoy the rest of your trip," The officer replied humbly as Hange walked by him and entered the gangway.

* * *

_11:55 a.m._

"Last call for passengers!" yelled one of the officers as the remaining passengers boarded Titanic before her departure from England.

As soon as there were no longer any passengers left, the dock workers were starting to pull the ramps back when a young boy with a shaved head carrying a bag over his shoulders came running towards the Third-Class ramp. "Wait! Stop! Don't leave!"

The boy ran up the boarding ramp towards the forward Third-Class gangway until he stopped at the wide gap that stood between him and the ship; he panted with exhaustion after running for a prolonged period. He handed his boarding pass to the officer in the gangway.

"I'm… a… passenger. I have… a ticket." The young man said exhaustively.

"Have you already passed the inspection queue?" The officer asked.

"Yeah, I've been through inspection! I don't have any hair, so of course I don't have lice!" The boy stated.

"All right, come aboard," affirmed the officer as the young boy jumped the gap and entered the Third-Class gangway; once the last passenger passed through the gangway, the officer orders two able seamen to close the gangway door.

The boy gave out a sigh of relief, "Man, I can't believe I almost missed my boat. That would've been a nightmare." He then pulled out his boarding pass and read the information that was written on his pass: Titanic, Conny Springer, Third-Class, Sailing April 10th, 1912.

* * *

_12:00 p.m._

Titanic's whistle gave a monstrous blare as the dock workers loosened the ship's mooring ropes and her anchors were raised out of the water, which freed the vessel from from being bound to the harbor. Passengers lined up on the decks as they bid farewell to Southampton and its people. The crowd on the pier erupted with many cheers and goodbyes to the newly conceived ocean liner as if it was some sort of parade float.

On the bridge of the colossal liner, Captain Edward Smith stood on the port side of the bridge as one of the officers came up to the captain. "We are ready to depart, sir." reported the officer.

Captain Smith turned to the officer with a diligent grin, "Good. Bring her out of port, Lowe. Steady as she goes."

"Aye, sir," replied Fifth Officer Lowe as he entered the Wheelhouse and gave his orders to the sailors as they turn the engine order telegraph to Slow, sending the orders to the Engine Room. "Slow the engines, men."

The ship's boilers were immediately lit as soon as the order was given out; the stokers began shoveling coal into the furnaces to give the engines enough steam power. As the steam was generated into the engines, the engineers activated the turbines, which made the three triple-screw propellers rotate at its slowest speed.

With the assistance of tugboats, Titanic slowly pulled out of her berth as hundreds of her passengers cheered and waved goodbye to Southampton. At the forward promenade on B-Deck, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman and Hanji Zoë were among those that watched the ship leave port; the brown-haired woman waved to the people on the pier as did Erwin, while Levi leaned against the railing as he folded his arms in an aloof position.

Once Titanic has pulled out of her berth, her next destination would be a straight shot across the English Channel; but before she could proceed any further, the ship has already encountered her first obstacle.

As Titanic sailed past two smaller vessels, the SS City of New York and the Oceanic, the large currents emanating from the bigger ship's sheer size churned the water and lifted the two liners; SS New York was shaken and strained by the small turbulence in the water so much, that the vessel's mooring cables snapped. The smaller liner's stern drifted heavily towards Titanic with no bearings to keep it from colliding with the latter.

Captain Smith sees the SS New York's stern swing out in front of Titanic's bow and immediately takes action, "Stop the engines! Hard to Port!" ordered Smith.

The helmsman turns the ship's telemotor as the telegraphs were turned to 'All Stop'; the engines were immediately stopped as the rudder turns the ship to starboard and away from the SS New York, while another tugboat throws another mooring line onto the adrift liner, preventing the possible collision.

Onlookers on the decks of Titanic witnessed the near-collision unfold beneath them. Erwin and his small group looked down at the drifting SS New York, "Well, that was quite a near-miss." Erwin commented.

"I know," Hange said as a glimmer of intrigue shined in her eyes. "We haven't even left the harbor yet and I'm already impressed by this ship's smooth maneuvering."

"I'd be more concerned about the fact that we almost struck another ship," Levi replied.

"Ah, but we didn't, did we?" Hange retorted as she gave a slightly smug smirk.

"We may as well have left Southampton anyway. Since we're already on board, let's all head to our staterooms and unpack our things." Erwin said as he heads inside the ship while Levi followed him.

The shorter man then turned to Hange as the latter was daydreaming, "You coming, Hange?"

The brown-haired woman almost immediately snaps out of her trance and faces Levi, "Oh, yeah, you go on ahead. I'm just gonna be out here for awhile."

"Fine, just don't fall overboard this time," forewarned Levi while Hange replied with an affirmative wave as she continued to admire the ship's intricate interior.

* * *

_Third-Class Berths (F-Deck)_

Down in the lower decks of the ship, Steerage passengers were being situated into their cabins as many families and single travelers were exploring the tight corridors in search of their assigned berths.

Conny Springer, a Third-Class passenger, was looking for his bunk among the cramped hallways that were crowded with other people passing through. He glanced up at the labeled doorways in hopes of finding the cabin that matched the number on his ticket. He frowned with annoyance as he continued to navigate the Third-Class area on F-Deck.

"Christ, this place is like a maze," Conny muttered. "I'll die of old age by the time I find my cabin."

The further he went down the hall, the less crowded it got; the sound of the ventilation was the only noise that Conny could hear in the background other than the echoes of other people nearby. He finally came across the Third-Class dining saloon, where some of the Steerage passengers were already having lunch. The boy's stomach growled as the smell of food triggered his appetite.

He sets his bag down next to him on the floor as he pulled up a chair and sat down at an empty table. A complimentary dinner roll was left on his plate, to which he eats. Just then, another young man with blonde hair came up and sat across across from Conny.

"Hey, nice to meet ya," greeted the young man.

Conny glanced at the boy as he was chewing his roll; he swallowed the chewed up bread before speaking, "Uh, hey, what's up?"

"Sorry if I interrupted your eating, I just wanted to introduce myself," The young man said apologetically.

"Nah, you're fine." Conny replied while wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Wouldn't mind making a few friends, I guess. Name's Conny Springer."

"Thomas Wagner, I'm from Liverpool," replied the young man as he extended a hand to Conny as the latter returned it with a handshake.

"Where are you from, by the way?" Thomas asked.

"Ragako, it's a pretty small village that's close to Southampton," said Conny.

"So, you're going to America right?" asked the blond boy.

"Yeah, there's not a lot of high-paying jobs anywhere else, and I heard they had some construction jobs in Boston." Conny explained.

"I'm also looking for a job in the Midwest," Thomas replied. "But I spent most of my savings for my ticket to New York. I dunno what I'm gonna do when I get there."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Conny said reassuringly.

"I'm hope you're right," Thomas said sheepishly.

"By the way, do you know where my cabin might be?" Conny asked.

"What number is it?"

"See for yourself," said Conny as he showed his boarding pass to the boy.

"Hey, that's my cabin!" Thomas said in a bright tone. "Guess you and I are bunkmates."

"Great. You can just show me where the cabin is after I eat." Conny said as he rubbed his stomach in hunger.

As the two of them chatted amongst themselves, a stewardess walked by Conny when they hear a hard thump coming from behind her; they turned towards Sasha, the stewardess, while the latter froze in place when they noticed her presence. Conny looks down at the floor to see a potato roll on its own.

The bald boy picked up the potato curiously, "What the heck? Where'd this come from?"

"Uh, you shouldn't eat that! It's contaminated!" Sasha warned the Steerage passenger.

"But it's only been on the floor for a second," said Conny. "It should be good to eat, right?"

She then hastily snatches the potato from Conny, "I cannot in good conscious let any passengers get sick on this ship, especially after eating a raw potato that hasn't been washed after being subsequently dropped on a contaminated floor!"

"She does have a point. For all we know, there could be a plague roaming around the ship as we speak." Thomas said as he spoke in a hushed tone.

"Frankly, I'd be more concerned about the rats on board, if there are any." Conny retorted.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to throw out this filthy potato. Enjoy your lunch now." Sasha said politely as she carried on with the potato in hand.

"Well, that was weird," Conny said awkwardly but he shrugged it off as a steward came to take their lunch orders.

Down the Third-Class corridor, as soon as she knew that she was out of sight, Sasha dove straight into a small closet where she could be alone; she quietly closes the door behind her and locked it.

"Finally, now that I'm all by myself, it's just you and me, my friend." Sasha said with a sensual grin as her composed face came undone while she held the potato in one hand and pulled out another from the breast of her uniform; she gives the potato a gluttonous lick.

* * *

_First-Class Staterooms (B-Deck)_

A door to a leisurely cabin opened as the young steward, Eren Jaeger, showed First-Class passenger, Levi Ackerman, to his assigned stateroom; the decor of the room itself was inspired by different period styles as the polished wall panels, carved from different types of exotic wood, exhibited their premium condition.

Levi examined the room while the steward gave the man a tour of the room and its modern conveniences, "Here is your personal cabin, sir. I hope you will find it to your liking."

"Yes. Everything looks to be in order," Levi replied as he scanned the entire room.

"There is a bathroom with running water and an electric heater for when it gets cold," Eren said as he noticed the short man pull out a white handkerchief and wiped the underside of the round table in the center of the room. "Is something the matter, sir?"

"Has this stateroom been well-kept?" Levi asked.

Eren nodded. "Yes, sir. Every room has been cleaned and tidied for every passenger."

Levi silently inspected the handkerchief as he found no dirt underneath the table; he then glances over to the mantle, where upon closer examination, he notices a grayish layer settled on the wooden surface. He wipes the mantle with the handkerchief, revealing it to be none other than dust. A small frown shifted as he looked at the now dirty piece of fabric with disdain.

"'Cleaned and tidied', you say?" questioned Levi as he looked at the young man in front of him with a grave disposition, as if he had been insulted to the highest degree. "More like deplorable and haphazard."

Realizing the severe-although, somewhat exaggerated-error that had been made, Eren bowed apologetically, "I-I'm sorry, sir. I'll have the mantle be dusted and-"

"No, that won't be enough," Levi replied with a strict conviction. "I want this room to be scrubbed from top to bottom until there's no speck of dirt left. From now on, while I'm still on this ship for the remainder of the voyage, I expect this stateroom to stay that way from the moment I wake up to when I retire in the evening. Otherwise, somebody is gonna be thrown overboard for their laziness. Got it?"

Eren tensed up as he realized how demanding and intimidating this passenger's demeanor was, so he gave an immediate nod and replied, "Yes, sir!"

"Good. I'm off to lunch. Don't forget what I've told you," reminded Levi as he opened the door to his stateroom, passed through the doorway and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the man left, Eren's shoulders loosened and gave a sigh of relief, "Man, I never knew First-Class passengers could be so strict. He's like some kind of drill sergeant."

* * *

_First-Class Reception (D-Deck)_

_4:00 p.m._

Hours after Titanic's near-collision with the SS City of New York in Southampton, she was already back on her scheduled course as she crossed the English Channel. Meanwhile, the time for Luncheon has passed and Afternoon Tea was already being served for the English passengers in First-Class.

The reception room on the D-Deck landing of the Grand Staircase was packed with sophisticated ladies and fine gentlemen who came to socialize with one another. People ascended and descended the staircase as they moved past the glistening candelabra that adorned the center railing. A quintet of musicians, two violinists, a cellist, a bassist, and a pianist played "On the Beautiful Blue Danube" over the sounds of polite banter and clinking dishes which gave this area an aura of elegance.

Armin Arlert, the blond-haired steward, was pushing a trolley that carried a teapot filled with tea, teacups, utensils, pastries, and finger foods around the reception room; his task was to serve the First-Class passengers a cup of tea and small treats to tide them over before dinner in the evening. His first day as a steward, however, has proven to be a challenge for the young man.

Many thoughts went through his mind as he served tea to each passenger. His hands would tremble when he poured the tea, which made the possibility of spilling a calamitous scenario. Fortunately, he has performed well despite his anxious disposition and fear of making a dire mistake; that is, until he has an interesting encounter in a very unexpected way.

"Here is your tea, sir-" A pot full of hot tea suddenly spilled out as the porcelain lid of the teapot slipped off and exposed its contents; a warm puddle of the herbal beverage splashed onto the wooden table. Armin's composure dissipated as it shifted to a look of horror. The man at the table was surprised at the small mishap, but he kept calm even though there is hot tea dripping on his lap.

"I'm so sorry, sir! I should've held the lid down while I was pouring! I can't believe I was so careless!" Armin said frantically as he mopped up the tea with a dry towel. "Don't worry, sir, I'll get you more tea!"

"It's all right, lad. Accidents happen," The man said reassuringly as he spoke with a natural Irish accent.

"Is there a problem here, sir?" A steward said as he came up to Armin and the Irishman.

"I'm-I'm really sorry! I-I made a mistake and I-" Armin came out stuttering.

"Blimey, that's a lot of tea you just spilled! Do you know how much you just wasted?" The steward exclaimed in a scoldful tone, which only made Armin withdraw in shame.

"Don't be too hard on him. It was just a spill, no harm done." The man replied with a humble grin. "I mean, I did get a wee bit of tea on my trousers, but nothing more than that."

The steward nodded, "Right. Arlert, when you're done cleaning up that tea, go finish serving the other passengers. I'll bring a fresh pot over to replace the one you done wasted."

Once the slightly livid steward left, Armin continued to wipe the table, "You didn't have to stick up for me, sir. Not that I'm ungrateful or anything, but I still would've taken full responsibility regardless."

"Well, you seemed rather anxious for a moment there. After all, you didn't have to be absconded too harshly, especially not for a tea spill." The Irishman explained.

"I was pretty nervous, wasn't I?" Armin said sheepishly as he hands the man another dry hand towel. "Here. Hopefully, it'll help sop up the wet spots on your clothes."

"Much obliged," The gentleman thanked the young boy as he dried the tea stains on his pants. "Anyways, I think I'll head back to my stateroom. I have something that I need to tend to."

"What about your Afternoon Tea, sir?" inquired Armin.

"Ah, don't trouble yourself; I'll have it sent to my room," The man said as he gave the now damp towel back to Armin and shared a polite nod. "Good day."

Armin reciprocated the nod as the Irishman climbed the Grand Staircase and disappeared to the upper decks. The blond steward then placed the towels back onto the trolley as well as the china and silverware before carrying on with his duty. Three First-Class women sitting from afar, who saw the minor incident unfold, started chatting to each other. Armin was within earshot as he inadvertently picked up on their discreet conversation:

"My, I simply both admire and envy that man for having such a mild temper." said one lady.

"If I had hot tea spilled on me, especially if it was on one of my favorite designer clothing, I would have had that young boy hauled off the ship for poor service." The second lady commented as she fanned herself with a paper fan.

"Nevermind that clumsy steward, did you happen to notice who that man was?" reminded the third lady.

"Who?" asked the first lady.

"That was Thomas Andrews! The man who built this ship!"

"You don't say?" The second lady said with a semblance of intrigue.

"Why, I didn't even recognize him at all," The first lady replied.

The name that the third woman mentioned struck Armin like a zap of lightning; he knew that name all too well, as if it gave him a sense of nostalgia. While he tuned out the rest of the irrelevant conversation from the three women, a thought crossed his mind, "Wait, it couldn't be him. There's no way HE could be here! Unless…"

Armin gazed upon the top of the Grand Staircase as he saw the aforementioned man talk to another man that may have been one of his associates. The man that stood on top landing of the tiled wooden stairs and the glowing candelabra, was Thomas Andrews: The architect of the RMS Titanic.

* * *

_Cherbourg, France_

_SS Nomadic and SS Traffic_

_6:30 p.m._

In the midst of a slow sunset, two tender boats sailed across the water from the port of Cherbourg as hundreds of travelers were being ferried from shore. Among the people on the Nomadic were First and Second-Class passengers that were either returning or visiting the United States on business or leisure trips; the typical Steerage passengers on the other tender, the Traffic, were also emigrating to America in search for work or asylum.

On the bow of the Third-Class tender, a petite blonde girl with blue eyes, who donned a commoner dress, overlooked the teal surface of the sea as the Traffic scuttled through the water. Beside her was a tall, freckled girl with brown hair tied into a ponytail. Her attire consisted of a buttoned-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, long baggy pants, normal-sized boots, a jacket and overalls, which made her style and appearance more masculine in comparison to the blonde girl beside her.

Some women and a couple of men gave odd glances to the taller girl's appearance and were both curious and confused about her actual gender, to which she ignores. She then spoke as she rested her elbows on the railing, leaned her left cheek against the palm of her hand while displaying a bored expression. "So, when do we finally get off of this raft, already?"

"I think our ship is just ahead of us," The short girl replied as she pointed to the four-funneled liner in the distance. "It looks pretty big."

The tall girl scoffed, "It's not that big, it's just like any other boat in the water: it's moderately large and it floats. Boom… mind blown."

"That's because it's far away." The blonde girl surmised.

"Whatever, I still stand by my statement." The tall girl said arrogantly. "Doesn't matter how big the ship is, anyway. We'll definitely be living below deck for an entire week. But if we're lucky, we might be sleeping next to the boiler room."

"I'm sure it won't be so bad," The short girl responded.

"Yeah, 'cause at least the boilers will keep us warm when it gets cold," The freckled girl replied with a sarcastic tone.

"That's not what I meant, Ymir." The blonde girl said with a blank stare.

"Believe me, Christa, I've traveled in Third Class long enough to know what hell we're about to experience." The tall girl named Ymir forewarned to her friend, Christa.

"Well, I think we'll be fine for the most part. I heard that our ship is from White Star, the shipping company from England." Christa said assuringly.

"Oh, that's right, I've been on one of their ships before," Ymir said as she turned and leaned her back against the railing. "It wasn't the best voyage I've been on, but the quality of my cheap accommodations weren't so bad."

"Ymir, have you ever been to America before?" Christa asked.

"I've been around some parts of Europe for awhile. But outside of here, I'm pretty much in the same boat as everyone else," Ymir replied as she realized that she was on a boat. "Uh, no pun intended."

"Woah…" Christa said breathlessly as she glanced upwards.

"What?" Ymir then looked up to see the towering mass of an ocean liner that dwarfed over the tender boats like a tall building; her lights glowed as night soon followed the setting sun. The girl was momentarily in awe as she observed the ship's impressive scale. "Holy shit. You were right, that thing is huge."

The Traffic made its way around to the ship's port side as the passengers got a glimpse of the bold nameplates on the hull of the stern section: **TITANIC - LIVERPOOL.**

"It's definitely bigger than 'moderately large'," Christa commented while Ymir nodded in agreement.

The SS Traffic then circled to the aft gangway doors as the crewmen on board Titanic opened the doors to allow passengers from Steerage to come aboard. The other travelers gathered their belongings as they set foot onto the wooden ramp and walked onto the larger vessel.

"Well, no time like the present, let's get on board," Ymir said as she and Christa grabbed their luggage and joined the rest of the embarking Steerage passengers.

* * *

_First-Class Gangway (D-Deck)_

The bellboys and stewards stood in the foyer of the First-Class reception room as they awaited the arrival of the extra passengers that were disembarking from the tender boat, the SS Nomadic. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin waited with the rest of the Victualling crew as they are about to greet some very prominent figures.

The gangway doors opened as a boarding ramp met with the open threshold. The first to set foot onto Titanic's deck was a tall gentleman accompanied by a young woman, two other men, the gentleman's valet and chauffeur, and the woman's maid.

He approached a steward and stewardess as they greeted him and his party, "Welcome aboard, sir. May I take your bags?" The steward asked politely.

"Why, yes, would you mind carrying mine up to B82 and Miss Aubart's to B35?" The gentleman requested as his valet and chauffeur handed the bags to the steward while another steward took the woman's bags from the maid and escorted her to the cabin.

Just as the gentleman and his lady walked by the lifts, Levi Ackerman, who was carrying a manila envelope in his hands, and Hange Zoë stepped out of the middle elevator as they notice the man give the woman a kiss on each cheek.

"Was that Benjamin Guggenheim?" Levi inquired.

"Clearly it was since he just waltzed right by us with his lover," Hange retorted.

"Mr. Ackerman?" Eren said as he sees the short man enter the lobby.

"You again? Have you cleaned my room and followed my exact orders?" Levi asked the steward.

Eren nodded, "Yes, sir. I have made sure that your accommodations are kept to your liking."

"I'll see for myself when I return to my cabin," Levi replied sternly as he and Hange walked past Eren and the others.

"Is that the man you're charged with?" Mikasa asked.

"Yeah, he's very keen on everything being neat and tidy," Eren explained. "God, I hope I didn't miss anything in his stateroom."

As the reception area became more crowded with incoming passengers, a woman in a feathered period dress and a large hat who carried a couple of bulky suitcases, entered the reception through the gangway entrance; Armin was the first to approach this woman as he offered to carry her luggage.

"Do you need help with your bags, ma'am?" Armin gestured to the woman.

"Ya sure about that, sonny? I'm practically carrying bricks over here." The woman said with a Southern accent.

"I'm sure I can handle it, ma'am," Armin replied with a courteous smile.

"Well, ya seem feeble enough to me. Here ya go, slugger." The woman chuckled while she handed the steward her luggage, which proved to be a challenge for the feeble boy as he struggled to carry the suitcases.

"Could I… have your name please, ma'am? So that I… may locate your… cabin?" Armin inquired while he lifted the luggage with tremendous stress.

"Name's Margaret Brown, darlin'. I believe my cabin is somewhere up on B-Deck, if I can recall," The Southern woman replied.

"Yes... Mrs. Brown… let me escort… you to your cabin…" Armin wheezed as he carried the suitcases to the elevators while the lady followed.

"Well, aren't you a little gentleman? Remind me to give you a tip on the way up," Brown said humorously as they entered the lift and were sent up to the higher decks.

Another couple entered the gangway as an older man linked arms with a much younger woman while he held the leash of an Airedale Terrier that walked alongside them; they were also followed by the man's valet and the woman's maid and nurse. Mikasa approached the couple as the dark-haired stewardess greeted them.

"Welcome to Titanic. My name is Mikasa Ackerman and I will be assisting you for today," Mikasa greeted as she politely bowed to the couple.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mikasa," The young woman replied with a smile.

"While you escort us to our staterooms, Miss Ackerman, would you mind fetching a steward to carry our belongings?" The older gentleman requested.

"Actually, I would gladly carry your luggage for you if you'd like," Mikasa offered.

"Oh, I don't think that would be necessary, miss. Our suitcases are quite heavy, so it would be best if-" The man replied while Mikasa retrieved the suitcases from the valet as she handled the heavy baggage with ease.

"Is that all, sir?" The stewardess inquired, still toting the heavy suitcases.

"Um… well…" The man said sheepishly as his young wife tugged his arm.

"What about Kitty?" She asked while pointing to the Airedale.

"Allow me to take your dog to the kennel, sir." Eren insisted.

"All right, be very gentle with Kitty, young man and treat him like he's a fellow passenger." advised the man as he handed the leash to the steward.

"Understood, sir." Eren nodded as he walked Kitty to the kennel.

Hange then noticed the couple that entered the foyer and immediately recognized the gentleman. "Is that John Jacob Astor?"

"Great, it looks like First-Class has gotten 60% richer, now." Levi said sarcastically.

"He also brought his wife along, too," Hange said as she leaned in closer to Levi and spoke in a low whisper. "I hear she's in a delicate condition."

"I don't delve into gossip. That sort of thing is for social parasites," Levi said bluntly.

"Oh, so I'm a parasite?" Hange inquired, who was also slightly offended by the lowbrow statement.

"Exactly," Levi retorted, which made Hange roll her eyes in response.

Not long after the first group of passengers disembarked from the Nomadic, a young woman with light-ginger hair and light-brown eyes soon entered the foyer with a small suitcase in hand. She then noticed the short man and the brown-haired woman waiting by the elevators and immediately waved to them.

"Corporal Ackerman! Miss Zoë!" The woman called over to Levi and Hange.

"Miss Petra, it's about time you came aboard." Levi responded to the woman who was addressed as Petra Ral, Levi's secretary.

"Where's Colonel Erwin?" Petra asked.

"He's in his cabin right now. He should be getting ready for dinner right about now." Hange replied.

Another man with a light brown undercut and a cravat donned around his neck came up beside Petra, "I don't know about you, but after being on that dinghy for awhile, I could use a drink."

"You always need a drink, don't you, Oruo?" Petra sighed, who addressed the man as Oruo Bozad.

"I agree, I'm thirsty as hell right about now," said a dark-haired man named Gunther Schultz who was accompanied by another man with blond hair tied into a bun and a goatee named Eld Gin.

"There's no need for the language, Mr. Schultz," scolded Eld.

"Well, I am. Is there any other way of saying it?" Gunther retorted.

"All right, Lieutenants, let's not screw around here," ordered Levi. "Find your cabins and get dressed for dinner; Petra, take this envelope to the Purser's Office on C-Deck and tell them to store the envelope under the Colonel's name."

"Yes, sir." Petra nodded as Levi gives her the envelope and the young woman proceeds to climb up the Grand Staircase to the Purser's Office; meanwhile the other men carried their belongings to their cabins with the aid of stewards up to the higher decks.

"Are you sure can trust anyone with that envelope? You heard what Erwin said, right?" Hange asked.

Levi turned to the brown-haired woman with a sincere look, "I have known these Lieutenants and Miss Ral for awhile. If there was any reason not to trust them, I wouldn't have given the envelope to anybody, especially Petra."

Hange gave an affirmative nod as she took the Lance Corporal's word to heart. With all that was said and done, Levi retreats to the staircase with the woman in tow.

* * *

_RMS Titanic_

_9:00 p.m._

Shortly after leaving Cherbourg, Titanic's first night came as she headed northwest to her next port of call. Her lights shined bright among the dark waters of the English Channel as her powerful engines and rapid propellers pushed her through the dark hours of the night. Cold wind blew swiftly against the ship, but it wasn't strong enough to even sway her.

In Boiler Room No. 6, the stokers continued to work through the heat of the blazing boilers, shoveling tons of coal per minute; two of these soot-stained stokers, Jean Kirschtein and Marco Bodt, wiped the profuse sweat from their foreheads while they worked to their body's ability.

"Kirschtein! Bodt!" Chief Fireman Fred Barrett hollered as the duo stopped shoveling. "You two can stop shovelin' now. I've got some more guys to fill in for you for tonight. Take it easy, now."

"Wait, it's night, already?" Jean asked.

"I guess time goes by when you're sweating," joked Marco.

"Speaking of sweating, I've sweated so much I should take a shower. I haven't had one since yesterday," Jean said as he sniffed himself.

"Working with the boilers 'oughta do it for you," Marco replied as the two headed towards the ladder and up to the crew bunks.

Just then, Trimmer Daz was walking along the catwalk above the coal bunkers when he tripped and fell into the coal again. "Guys?! A little help!"

"Walk it off, Daz," snarked Jean as he and Marco climbed the ladder; Daz merely sighs as he struggled to get out of the coal bunker.

* * *

_Third-Class Berths (F-Deck)_

As most of the Third-Class passengers were getting ready for bed, Conny Springer sat up on the bottom bunk reading a newspaper as his bunkmate, Thomas Wagner, was lying down on the top bunk.

"Hey, when are you going to bed?" Thomas asked groggily.

"As soon as I'm done reading the Sports page," Conny replied as he continued to read the article.

"Could you turn off the light when you're done?" Thomas asked.

"I'm on it," Conny said as he puts down the newspaper, picked up his shoe and threw it towards the light switch, turning the lights off as it flipped the switch and hit the floor.

"Did you just throw your shoe?" Thomas asked with bewilderment.

"Yup, I did," Conny said as he pulled the blanket over his body. "Well, good night."

"Night, Conny," Thomas said as he laid back down and closed his eyes as the two of them went to sleep.

* * *

_Levi's Stateroom_

Once Levi returned to his stateroom, he first scanned the entire room to see if the stewards cleaned everything in the room. He looked on the mantle to see it dust-free; he checked under the table to find it wiped clean; he also checked the latrine and found no grime or stains on the porcelain toilet or sink.

When he was through with his inspection, he nodded with contempt as he prepared himself for bed. He slips into his pajamas, pulled the comforter and the blankets back gently, flattening the soft texture of the mattress.

Just then, a soft knock came at the door; Levi calmly walks up to the door and opens it. The steward, Eren Jaeger, was waiting at the door with a tea tray of warm milk and biscuits for the short man.

"I have your milk and biscuits, sir," Jaeger said as Levi takes the tray from the steward.

"Thank you, Mr… Jaeger, was it?" inquired Levi.

"Yes, sir," Eren nodded in reply.

"All right, Jaeger, I'll leave the tray outside the door when I'm done with it," Levi said as he was about to close the door when Eren stopped him.

"Uh, sir?" Eren asked.

"What is it?" Levi asked.

"I don't mean to pry, sir, but-" Eren was about to say when the Lance Corporal interjected.

"Whatever it is, can it wait until tomorrow?" Levi requested. "I have a strict sleep schedule and I don't want to be interrupted."

Eren closed his mouth as he decided to keep the current thought in his head to himself. "Of course, sir. I apologize."

"Would you mind closing the door for me as well? As you can see I have my hands full at the moment," Levi asked while Eren nodded and complied.

After Eren shuts the cabin door, he quietly sighs as he turns away from the stateroom and walked down the hall.

* * *

_Stewardess Quarters_

Mikasa Ackerman sat at her bunk in her nightgown while she brushed her short black hair as Sasha Braus held a hand mirror in front of the girl. Another stewardess in her sleepwear sat next to Mikasa's bunk, who noticed the red scarf that the dark-haired girl kept beside her.

"That is a lovely scarf, Miss Ackerman," The stewardess complimented the young girl. "I've noticed you've been wearing that all day."

"Yes, I have. What about it?" inquired Mikasa.

"No reason, I just didn't think we were allowed to wear anything else other than the uniforms that they gave us." said the stewardess.

"Oh, that's right! You have been wearing that scarf since we left Southampton," Sasha said.

"It's a gift from a friend," Mikasa replied.

"Your friend must be really special. You carry it wherever you go, so the one who gave it to you must also be important as well," surmised the stewardess.

"Is it a boy? It's definitely a boy, right?" questioned Sasha.

"Actually, yes, it is a boy," Mikasa replied. "I grew up with him."

"So he's a childhood friend, then?" The other stewardess asked.

Mikasa's face turned a pinkish-red as she turned away, "Yes, he is."

"Would you two leave her be?" Violet Jessop said sternly as she came into the cabin in her sleepwear. "You're making her redder than a radish."

"Sorry, Violet," The stewardess apologized as she finally minds to herself.

"So how was your day, Mikasa? You didn't get into any trouble did you?" inquired Jessop.

"No, ma'am, everything turned out fine as it should," Mikasa replied.

"Good. Your first time on an ocean liner must've been an experience, hasn't it?" Jessop asked.

"It's not how I would describe it exactly. All I did was clean rooms and assist passengers the entire day." The dark-haired girl explained.

"Aye, well, that's the life of a stewardess. The more time you spend at sea the more adapted you are." The Irish woman replied. "Now, then, I believe it is time to go to bed. Tomorrow, we have more passengers coming aboard from Queenstown; we best be ready for that."

Mikasa nodded as she, Sasha, Violet and the other stewardesses settled in for the night; the lights flickered off, and the occupants of the cabin soon drifted off to sleep. Mikasa, however, stayed awake for awhile until she felt her eyes growing heavier with each passing minute until she finally gave in and fell asleep.

The first day of Titanic's voyage, has come to a close.


	2. Departure

**Chapter 2:**

**Departure**

_RMS Titanic_

_April 11th, 1912; 6:00 a.m._

Sunlight returned to light the blue waters of the English Channel while Titanic basked in the orange-tinted sunrise. The ship propelled through the glassy water as white foam splashed against the hull; the ship's propulsion left a trail of rippled waves like a floating train following a set of invisible tracks. The Titanic's decks remained silent for the first few hours of her second morning, with the exception of the deck crew commanding the helm at her wheelhouse.

The young steward, Eren, overlooked the starboard side of the Boat Deck. He observed the calm waters and the rising sun for some time while Titanic steamed through the expanded channel; he was so immersed in the composure of the atmosphere, he almost didn't notice one of the officers stroll across midship.

"Good mornin', lad," The officer greeted Eren as the boy stood at attention.

"Uh, morning, sir!" Eren replied as he gave a salute to the officer.

"No need to be all stiff and strict, son. I'm just taking a walk, that's all," The officer said as he spoke with a Scottish accent. "Isn't it a little early in the mornin' for you to be out here?"

"I woke up an hour early so that I can have time for myself before my shift, sir." Eren said.

"Aye, well, you ought to get back to your duties, then. I'm about to continue my shift after breakfast." said the officer as he continued his walk.

"Yes, sir," Eren nodded while the officer acknowledged the reply and carried on with his routine.

Just as he was about to head back inside, Eren glanced over to see a tall, blond-haired man with a moustache, donned in a White Star Line sailor uniform, walk past the officer; Eren recognized that man as if he knew him from yesterday.

"Good morning, Officer Murdoch," greeted the seaman.

"Mornin', lad." The officer responded as his voice grew more distant since he was further away from Eren's earshot.

"Mr. Hannes?" Eren uttered which drew the man's attention to the steward.

"Hey, Eren!" The seaman said jovially as he immediately recognized Eren, walked up to him and tousled his hair. "Wow, you've grown a lot since the last time I saw you."

"What are you doing here?" inquired Eren.

"What else? I enlisted myself as a sailor for White Star's grand-spanking new ship and, well, here I am," Hannes said optimistically.

"Does Mikasa or Armin know you're here?" The boy asked.

"Actually, I didn't even know you kids were on board until I ran into Armin yesterday." Hannes explained. "I betcha he didn't tell you, did he?"

"Yeah, he must've forgotten to mention that," Eren said blankly, realizing that his friend didn't even bother to tell him.

"Man, how long has it been? Five years?" Hannes pondered.

Eren nodded as he grinned. "It's good to see you again."

Hannes rubbed the back of his head before speaking, "Say, you haven't been causing any trouble on board, have you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eren asked begrudgingly.

"Ah, I'm just kidding," The sailor said teasingly as he chuckled. "But, seriously, you haven't gotten into any fights with the other crew members, have you?"

"No, sir, I've been on my best behavior and I have followed orders without question," Eren replied in a sincere manner.

"Good, good. I'm glad to hear it," Hannes nodded attentively. "Looks you might be on your way to being a Navy man."

"If I'm old enough, I will be," Eren said with an undaunting grin.

"How's Mikasa doing? Is she still keeping tabs on you?" Hannes asked.

"Me and Mikasa have been holding up, especially with Armin's help." informed Eren.

"You know, you kids have been really close for a long time. It reminds me of the days where you three use to tag along so much; those were simpler days." Hannes sighed as he reminisced.

Eren also felt the flood of memories come pouring back to him. A sense of nostalgia overwhelmed him for a brief moment as he remembered the days where he, Mikasa, and Armin would gallivant in the streets of their hometown of Maria, England. He remembered all those times where he listened to Armin talk endlessly about the ocean; the times where he and Mikasa had to protect their blond friend from the local bullies; and the times where he and Mikasa came home to have a family dinner with his mother and father.

The flashbacks of Eren's mother came into view, but it gave him a bittersweet feeling; it reminded him of how much he missed her and how her unexpected passing left an impact on the lives of both him and his adopted sister.

Hannes noticed this sudden change in Eren and was quick to adhere to it, "Eren? You all right?"

Eren finally came back to his senses and looked directly at Hannes, "Sorry, I was just…"

"You were thinking about Carla again, right?" The seaman asked, to which Eren nodded in response. "I'm sorry if I reminded you of that. I know your mother being gone hasn't been easy on you."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. I still think about her sometimes, though." Eren said with a hint of grief in his tone.

"Well, you know what, she would've been proud that you're climbing up to becoming to Navy man. A damn good one at best." Hannes said optimistically.

Eren smiled at the positive remark, "Thanks, Mr. Hannes."

"That's more like it," Hannes grinned.

"Oh, crap! I need to get back to my duties, or the Lance Corporal is gonna throw my ass overboard!" Eren exclaimed as he turned to head inside, but not before Hannes stops him.

"Hey, wait! Before I forget, I wanted to give you something," Hannes said as he dug into his pocket and pulled a small tool; he then tosses the latter over to the young steward, who catches it in time. "Consider it a late birthday gift."

"A lockpick?" Eren said as he examined the tool, which had a snake-like tip at the end. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Hey, it took up a lot of room in my pockets, and I didn't use it much, anyway. I figured you might need it to get into hard-to-reach places. Just don't use it for anything sneaky." Hannes said as he forewarned the youth.

"I won't, sir." Eren saluted as he accepted the gift and went on with his day. Hannes chuckled to himself as he turned on his heel and walked towards aft and carried on with his shift.

* * *

_8:30 a.m._

The daily life on board Titanic soon began to pick up the pace as passengers emerged from their cabins and began their morning routines. The passengers in First Class had their breakfast in the cafés and in the dining saloon while many had their walks along the Promenade decks and the Boat Deck. Some of the men have also committed to exercise in the Gymnasium to keep them in shape; for some of the women, they would often get together and just gossip or talk about the latest news that occurred in this current time.

For Hange Zoë, she wasn't always one for having social conversations with other women, despite also sharing some of the common feminine traits; whenever she felt bored with socializing with women, she would sometimes talk to the men instead, since most of the things she ever knew about was engineering, politics, and other things that other women aren't normally used to.

Sadly, in the current society Hange lives in, most women don't like to talk of other things outside of fashion, gossip and so forth; the men would also brush Hange off due to her being a woman. She would prefer to talk for days on end about her love of ships or perhaps some of the current events in the news instead of having to change the subject every five seconds from how the weather is to anything else that keeps the conversation inconsistent.

Hange could have been talking with Colonel Erwin about his time in the Spanish-American War; but now she's stuck in the Veranda Café, talking to Petra about her plans for getting married, which doesn't seem to interest her much at all.

"My father has bugged me for a thousand times about when I was going to get engaged; I've had to remind him that I plan to have no relationship outside of my career of being the Lance Corporal's secretary, as of now," Petra said as she conversed with Hange during breakfast at the Veranda and Palm Court.

"Didn't he also say something about you being engaged to Levi, too?" Hange inquired, while also lacking a little bit of intrigue in the subject.

"Yes! He absolutely did! I don't even like the Lance Corporal like that!" The secretary said apprehensively. "But between you and me, I always found Lieutenant Oruo to be… well, you know…"

A spark of mischief glimmered behind Hange's glasses as she knew how to liven up the conversation, "Smoking hot?"

"Don't say that! There's people eating in here!" chastised Petra.

"Come on, admit it. You've had your eye on Oluo the moment you two met through your line of work," pestered Hange.

"Look, I'd rather keep my work relationships completely professional. Otherwise, I won't make a good impression on anyone else if they thought I was some kind of trollop." Petra said strictly as she sipped her tea.

"I completely understand, Petra. Nothing scandalous or mischievous going with you or the other men," Hange replied.

"Well, good. I'm glad you understand, Miss Hange," Petra said thankfully.

"Hello, girls," greeted the Southern-American woman, Margaret Brown, who came up to the two younger women. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure, Mrs. Brown. Have a seat." Petra said politely as the older woman sat down.

"Oh, call me, Maggie, honey; that's just what I normally go by," Maggie said. "So, have we formally met?"

"As of this recent encounter, yes we have; my name is Hange Zoë. It's nice to meet you, Maggie." greeted Hange.

"And I'm Petra Ral, charmed I'm sure," Petra said as she shook Maggie's hand.

"Well, you little girls seem all right from the get-go. I may as well be an old-fashioned grandmother compared to you two, 'cause you both glow brighter than a shiny pearl." Maggie said lightheartedly, which made Petra smile at the compliment.

"You don't look that old to me," Hange said honestly.

"Aw, hell, I think my grandson would beg to differ," Maggie snickered. "But here's the thing about age: Even if you're all gray and wrinkly, if you're in the right mood, you may as well be 20-something from the heart, if ya know what I'm sayin'."

"So, Maggie, I don't mean to pry, but how did you make your millions?" Petra asked.

"Now, I thought everybody already knew about the big money question? Did nobody tell you?" The socialite asked.

"The Lance Corporal did tell me that your husband found gold out west, right?" Hange asked the Southern woman.

"That's right, my husband was out with the other miners when they struck up some gold," Maggie explained. "I will say this, it was quite a life-changer."

"Would you care for a beverage, ma'am?" A steward asked as he approached Maggie.

"A cup of tea would be fine, hun." said Maggie as the waiter wrote down the order and went to place the order. "So how about the two of you? What brought you to Titanic?"

"We're returning home from a formal trip with Colonel Erwin Smith and Lance Corporal Levi Ackerman." Hange said.

"Ya mean the short fella and the tall fella I saw at dinner last night?" Maggie inquired. "I never actually got the chance to talk to them; are they military like Colonel Gracie and Colonel Butt?"

"You'd be surprised, Maggie; both he and Colonel Erwin have a brilliant track record in the American military." Petra said in a prideful manner. "I should know, because I'm his personal secretary."

"Do you come from money, though?" Maggie asked.

"No, not really. I come from a lower-class family, in case you were wondering," Petra said shyly. "I don't get paid much, either, but since I travel around with Levi and the Lieutenants, he usually pays for my ticket when we travel by ship."

"Hey, it doesn't matter to me where you came from, hun. I know what it's like growing up a poor girl in the South; but I'd be careful around the other ladies if I were you, they just love to stick their noses into other people's business like they were vultures." forewarned Maggie.

"You wanna know what I do?" Hange asked as Maggie turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm a naval engineer."

"Get outta here?!" The socialite said with revered enthusiasm. "I always knew a woman can do heavy-lifting, but an engineer?"

Hange adjusted her glasses before she replied, "The engineering thing is more of a hobby, really. But I have a second job as an aide to Colonel Erwin; it's almost like Petra's job, but I have a slightly higher pay."

"That's a damn shame, and you seem like a talented novice, too," Maggie sighed. "I bet you must've worked on a lot of ships before you settled as a 'military aide.'"

"Exactly! I also know the inner-machinations of other ships, including the transatlantic liners from Cunard and White Star!" Hange exclaimed as she affectionately hugged the wall next to her. "But Titanic… she's, by far, my most favorite out of all the floating titans at sea. She's gorgeous."

"Honey, you're hugging a wall," Maggie said as she watched the brown-haired woman in bewilderment.

"She's just very passionate about ships." Petra explained, though she couldn't help but glance at Hange, who was now kissing the wall.

"Oh, she's very passionate, all right." Maggie replied rhetorically, as a look of confusion was displayed on her face.

* * *

_Third-Class Area (Stern Section)_

The Steerage passengers were scattered around the Poop Deck and Aft Well Deck as they enjoyed their day after a hearty breakfast. Immigrant children played on the deck while the mothers and fathers tended to the toddlers and newborns that accompanied them. Other passengers talked amongst themselves as they sat on the benches on the Poop Deck while some watched the common sea life swim past the hull of the ship as they watched over the railing in awe.

Lounging around on the Aft Well Deck, Conny Springer and Thomas Wagner spent their morning talking to one another as the day progressed. While they were talking, two familiar girls approached and greeted them.

"Hello, there," chimed the short, blonde-haired girl as she waved to the two boys.

"Hey, what's up." greeted Conny.

"My name's Christa Lenz, and this is Ymir," Christa said as she gestured to the freckled girl.

"Yo." Ymir greeted.

"Conny Springer. This is Thomas, by the way." gestured the bald young man as he introduced other young man.

Thomas blushed as he noticed the petite girl, "Uh, nice to meet you. Hey, you're pretty cute, by the way."

"Oh, thank you," Christa smiled warmly at the compliment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The taller girl questioned the young man suspiciously.

"Nothing, I just thought she looked adorable." Thomas said defensively.

"Right…" Ymir said while eyeing Thomas.

"He was just trying to be nice, Ymir," Christa said chastingly.

"Well, Christa, you can't trust everybody, and besides, I was only looking out for my little Goddess." Ymir said in a sentimental tone as she patted Christa on the head.

"Yeah, like a buzzard." Christa said blankly.

"You can trust us, ladies. It's not like we're a couple of deviants looking for some helpless damsel in distress." Conny said reassuringly.

"Really? I find it hard to believe that Ymir, here, would be the best candidate for damsel in distress." Thomas added.

"Why? Is it because I look more like a boy? I know, I know… I get that a lot." Ymir surmised.

"Anyway, you two are traveling together, right? Are you siblings, or just friends?" Conny inquired.

"Well, Ymir and I met at the train station before we left for Cherbourg. We also kinda got to know each other a little when we were on our way to the harbour," Christa said as she shared her story. "So I guess you can say that we are traveling companions."

"And we're sharing the same cabin together like an old married couple." Ymir said jokingly while her shorter friend flushed with embarrassment.

"So are you going to America to look for a job as well?" The bald boy asked.

"Actually, I'm supposed to be staying with a relative in Virginia," informed Christa.

"What about you, Ymir? You got anywhere else to go?" Thomas asked.

"Me? Hell, if I know. I may as well continue my life as a hobo once the ship docks." Ymir stated.

"You're a drifter?" Conny inquired.

"You can say that." Ymir replied ambiguously.

Christa silently glanced at her friend for a brief minute before turning to Conny and Thomas, "Well, it was nice meeting you two. I hope your voyage will turn out all right."

"Same to you, Christa." smiled Thomas.

"See ya," waved Conny.

"Yeah, bye, creeps." Ymir said half-heartedly as she and Christa waved to the two boys in passing.

As the girls were further away from them, Conny and Thomas turned to each other in confusion. "That freckled chick doesn't like us, does she?" inquired Thomas.

"Eh, give her time, she'll warm up to us, eventually." Conny said with reassurance.

Meanwhile, with Christa and Ymir, the two were heading below deck when the short blonde noticed that there weren't any people around; she then spoke in a low voice, "Why didn't you tell them?"

"Tell'em what?" Ymir asked.

"That you used to be a thief?" Christa reminded her taller friend as she lowered her condescending eyebrows.

"I still am a thief; I'm only taking a brief intermission because of the promise I made to you, it doesn't mean I've reformed." The freckled girl said lowly.

"You could've at least been honest with them, that way they could understand you better." surmised Christa.

"Honest? Tch, I'm not gonna be honest to strangers that I just met." Ymir scoffed.

"But-"

Ymir gave an exasperated sigh as she focused on the shorter girl, "Look, let's just say that I did tell them that I stole from people, how do you think they would react?"

"Well, I guess maybe they would understand that you were desperate and you just wanted to get by," Christa assumed as she pondered.

"I don't need sympathy, and I don't regret what I had to do in order to provide for myself," Ymir insisted as she stared intently at the blonde girl. "Besides, no one wants to be around a thief, and neither would you. So if you want to not get in trouble by being around me, I suggest you keep it to yourself."

Christa thought for awhile longer before giving an affirmative but uncertain nod to the taller girl. "Okay, I won't tell anyone. But will you promise me that you won't do anything bad while we're on the ship?"

"Hey, I already promised you, didn't I? I intend on keeping it as well; that is, until we decide to part ways when we get to New York." The brown-haired girl proclaimed as she continued forward. Christa only sighed while she followed Ymir down the narrow corridors.

* * *

_Cork Harbour; Queenstown, Ireland_

_11:30 a.m._

Titanic once again makes another port of call on her peaceful journey across the channel to the coast of Ireland where she momentarily rested at the edge of the mouth of the open Atlantic. She awaited the arrival of more cargo as well as many emigrants that hailed from Western Europe and further on as they were delivered across the harbour on tenders. Some of the passengers on these small boats were also First and Second-Class travelers with similar motives or ambitions as any ordinary people would. Some, however, have hidden agendas such as an important task at hand or a mission for a higher power.

As the First-Class/Second-Class tender bridged with Titanic's gangway, the call for passengers to board was carried out and more people are transferred onto the large liner. They presented their passes to the officers that awaited them before being permitted to enter the ship, as per the procedure.

Among the Second-Class people, three young individuals crossed the threshold as they are greeted by the crew and other passengers; the first was a short girl with blue eyes and blonde hair tied into a short ponytail, who also wore a wool dress and boots; the second was a buff young man with hazel eyes and short blond hair who wore a regular men's attire; their other companion, who was an abnormally taller young man with dark eyes and short dark hair, was also not far behind.

"Welcome aboard, Titanic, miss." greeted the officer as he gestured to the blonde girl who had a neutral gaze on her face while she carried a medium-sized suitcase in one hand.

"Permission to come aboard?" The buff young man smirked as he carried his luggage over his shoulder.

"This is a really big ship." The taller boy commented.

"Yeah, you can probably get lost in here until you lose your mind." The girl said aloofly.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you know where our cabins are?" The buff boy asked a boatswain who just shrugged in response.

"Not sure, lad, I only work on the Boat Deck. I believe they may be further aft, but I think I'd ask a bedroom steward before you start poking around." The boatswain replied as he carried on with his shift.

"Thank you," The young man thanked the crewman; he then looks over to his two companions. "Let's go find a steward so that they can show us where our cabins are."

"They should be on E-Deck, we could just explore a little until we find them." said the blonde girl as she glanced at her ticket.

"But it's just like you said, Annie, this ship is big enough to get lost in." The taller boy reiterated.

"Hello, there." greeted another man who spoke with an Irish accent as he approached the young passengers; the man carried a suitcase in his hand and camera was strapped around his neck. "How are you today?"

"We're doing fine, sir." The buff boy responded politely.

"Are you arriving passengers or are you departing?" The man inquired.

"We just got off the tender and we're looking for our cabins on E-Deck." The taller boy replied.

"I see. Well, I believe they may be down that passage on your left; there is also a staircase that can take you to the Second-Class berths." instructed the man.

"Thank you, sir, much appreciated." The buff young man nodded with acknowledgment.

"It's no problem at all, son. Now, I know it's a bit inconvenient for me to introduce myself before having to leave for Queenstown, but my name is Francis Browne." said the man as he introduced himself.

"Reiner Braun, and this is Annie and Bertholdt, they're traveling with me to America for missionary work." The buff boy greeted as he gestured to his other two companions; Annie silently nodded in acknowledgement while Bertholdt smiled and waved at the man.

"Ah, so you're missionaries? It must be quite a big responsibility for you three to be spreading the word of God at such a young age." Francis said with intrigue.

"It's just how we were brought up," The taller boy named Bertholdt Hoover said humbly. "We were raised to share God's word with others and to help those less fortunate than we are."

"That's a very noble reason for you three to travel across the ocean and bring faith unto others," Francis said with a smile. "You know I'm actually learning to become a priest myself."

"No kidding?" The blonde girl named Annie Leonhart retorted, who sounded more apathetic than she intended; although, she didn't bother to correct herself.

"I think it's great, sir. It's nice to find someone with a faith as strong as yours," Bertholdt replied with a more positive vibe.

"That's kind of you to say, thank you." Francis said happily as he felt elated by the stranger's compliment; he then clutched the bottom of his camera as he turned to the open gangway with his luggage in hand. "It was nice meeting you three, but I best be on my way. I have to get these pictures onto dry land, y'know. May God bless you on your journey."

"God bless you, too, sir." smiled Reiner as he and Bertholdt both bid farewell to the man as the latter stepped across the threshold and disembarked onto the tender, forever leaving Titanic and allowing the man to continue to follow his path in life.

"So, are we gonna find our cabin, or what?" Annie inquired as she headed towards aft with her belongings in tow.

"Wait up, Annie!" Bertholdt called out to his companion as he frantically jogged up to her. Reiner chuckled to himself while catching up to his two close friends.

* * *

_First-Class Gymnasium_

Erwin rested on a wooden bench with a glass of ice water as his companion Levi, dressed in loose clothing, threw hook after hook against the punching bag with extreme agility and swiftness; a few other passengers in the gymnasium watched the man's fluid movements with awe as they observed his physical prowess

An elderly couple noticed Levi's combative skills as they glanced over to Colonel Erwin. The wife, who was riding on the mechanical horse, spoke to the Colonel, "He's being a little too aggressive to that bag, don't you think, Colonel?"

"He's been through all kinds of training in the military, Mrs. Straus. When he is faced with conflict, he doesn't hold back; nor does he hesitate." Erwin explained as he sipped his water.

"Well, I certainly don't want to provoke a reaction from the Corporal. Whatever that punching bag did to upset him, I wouldn't want to repeat it." The old man said humorously as he stood beside his wife.

"Oh, Isidor," The old woman chuckled as she held her husband's hand. "All right, I believe I've spent enough time on this crazy contraption already."

"Of course, Ida, my dear," affirmed Isidor as he helped his wife of fifty years dismount the machine. "Why don't we go out and rest on the Boat Deck?"

"That would be lovely," smiled Ida as they leave the gymnasium.

As soon as the couple left, a man, whose appearance can be described as a man who is tall and well-built, has blonde hair, a large nose, and facial hair, entered the gymnasium; the latter approached Erwin and Levi while saluting to them, "Colonel? Lance Corporal?"

"Major Zacharias, what are you doing here?" Levi inquired as he ceased from his work out and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"My designated ship in Ireland was cancelled at the last minute, so my ticket had to be transferred to the Titanic," The man, who was identified as Major Mike Zacharias of the U.S. Army, explained, who then turned his focus onto Erwin Smith. "I just now boarded from Queenstown moments ago. I knew you and the Ackerman party were aboard, so I had to come to you first."

"So you wish to pass along some of the latest events of this past week with us, is that correct?" Erwin asked with a sly chuckle as he placed a friendly hand on Mike's shoulder, "All right, then, why don't we have this discussion after Luncheon? I spoke to Mr. Ismay of the White Star Line and was able to reserve his private promenade for Afternoon Tea, but only for today since he is a very active man and would prefer that we don't overstay our welcome."

"Sounds like a plan," replied Mike. "I'd rather keep our conversation discreet and away from open ears."

"Do you and Miss Zoë plan on joining us, Lance Corporal?" Erwin inquired to Levi.

Levi gave a neutral stare to Erwin before replying, "You know it's not like me to turn down such an invitation from someone as gregarious as the chairman of one of the biggest shipping companies that isn't Cunard."

Erwin nodded and followed Mike as they both exit the gymnasium; Levi grabbed a dry towel and patted his face of any moisture that dripped down his skin. "Meanwhile, while those two are having their little soirée, I should send a telegram to Major Moblit back in D.C. and let him know of Mike's sudden change of plans."

Just then, the blonde-haired steward, Armin Arlert, entered the gymnasium as he was seeking the Lance Corporal himself, "Mr. Ackerman?"

"Yes, what is it?" Levi asked the steward with an impatient disposition.

"Sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but due to your recent grievance with the staff, the purser has sent me to inform you that your travel accommodations have been rearranged; your new stateroom is now on A-Deck and we have made sure that it has been kept in pristine condition." informed Armin as he gives Levi the key to his new room.

"Thank you, steward. Now, could you also pass this message along to the purser himself?" inquired Levi as his demeanor grew to be more stern and intolerant. "You tell him, that if I find my stateroom to be kept in a deplorable state once more, I will take it upon myself to personally take whoever is responsible for cleaning my room and toss them into the boilers just for their sheer incompetence."

Armin, who was startled by Levi's descriptive threat, gulped in fear, "Um, shall I tell him word-for-word?"

Levi paused and pondered for a second before responding, "Actually, forget all that, I'll just tell him in person; you continue doing what you were just doing while I head down to the Purser's Office."

As soon as he said this, Levi calmly walked out of the gymnasium, leaving a surprised Armin to regain his composure. "Christ, I thought Eren was only exaggerating when he said all those things about Mr. Ackerman. Why do I bother second-guessing these things?"

* * *

_Forecastle Deck (Bow Section)_

During the loading of embarking passengers and precious cargo, the stokers that kept the boilers inside Titanic at steam were given a break as the ship rested at the Irish harbor. A few of the stokers went up on deck to get a breath of fresh air after staying below in the hot confines of the boiler rooms for hours at a time; Jean and Marco were one of the few men who climbed up to the forecastle deck to observe the vast waters that lay just beyond the coast of continental Europe.

"Wow, look at that sea," Marco said admirably as he looked out into the edge of the channel and the miles of ocean that would come later.

"Yup… that's a lot of water," Jean said with an unenthusiastic tone. "It's fascinating how there's just so much of it in one place."

"You may not appreciate the beauty of the environment around, but I think it's a natural wonder to behold," The freckled young man said as he was still fixated on the aquatic horizon.

"Actually, now that you mention it, this is a pretty nice view; imagine when Columbus first sailed across all that saltwater and thought he was gonna find India on the other side," Jean said as he scoffed. "That guy was a real blow hard and an idiot."

Marco chuckled at Jean's remark, "Yeah, probably. Still, I think the idea of going across an entire hemisphere just to get to one place is kinda thrilling. Too bad I'm not a passenger, otherwise I wouldn't have to work all the time."

"Eh, at least providing power to a steam ship is the closest thing you'll get to living the dream," Jean said as he walked towards the railing that overlooked the forward well deck; his vision panned from the Steerage passengers on the lower deck to the higher promenade decks as he got a glimpse of a girl with short dark hair and in a stewardess uniform standing on the B-Deck promenade. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her.

The girl appeared to be conversing with a female passenger as she listened to the other woman intently before the woman turned away and went inside. Jean stared at her for a long time until she looked in his direction; he froze for a second and his face blushed as if she acknowledged his presence, but a response never came from the girl. A few moments later, the stewardess drew her attention away and went about her duties.

Jean exhaled as he realized that the girl did not notice him; she may have been looking at something else from the corner of her eye and didn't see Jean, or perhaps she may have seen him but didn't think much of it. Either way, thus gave Jean the chance to admire this girl's beauty from afar. The young man felt as though the world was at a stand still.

"Hey, Jean, you won't believe this, but I think I just saw a dolphin swim up to the ship!" Marco said with bright observation as he came up to his friend and snapped the latter out of his infatuated trance.

"Wh-what?" Jean muttered as he was brought back to reality. "Sorry, I, uh… zoned out for a minute there."

"Bodt, Kirschtein," said Chief Fireman, Fred Barrett, as he approached the two boys. "Your break's over! I need you two down in the boiler rooms with the rest of the lot to fire up the boilers before we start heading off!"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Barrett!" Marco replied as he and Jean ended their break and retreated back to the boiler room.

* * *

_Poop Deck_

_1:30 p.m._

A few hours later, Titanic's whistle blared for her final call before continuing her maiden voyage across the Atlantic Ocean; dozens of Third-Class travelers, many of whom were Irish emigrants that embarked at Queenstown, were lined up at the ship's railings while they waved to the distant island with an emotional goodbye. The tenders returned to the mainland with a few disembarking passengers on board while the White Star vessel raised her anchors.

Sasha Braus, the Third-Class stewardess, walked across the Poop Deck as she observed the happy raucous that occurred on deck. She then turned to an Irishman, who stood with his family on deck while he lifted his little girl up to his level.

"What's all this commotion?" Sasha asked the man.

"Oh, it's not a commotion, miss," corrected the Irishman while his daughter looked at Sasha with wondering eyes. "Everybody's just excited to be going to America."

"Well, I've never been to America, and I don't plan on moving there. I'm just a stewardess who's just trying to make a living," replied Sasha.

"So are the rest of us; I'm bringing my family with me for a better life across the sea," The Irishman said happily. "It's a big change, but I just know it'll be worth it in the long run."

Sasha nodded with acknowledgment as she turned her attention to the deck benches; she noticed a dark-haired girl with loose pigtails sitting alone on one of the benches. The girl was sobbing quietly as the stewardess looked at her with concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sasha asked the girl as she sat beside her.

"I'm sorry," The girl sniffled as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief. "I-I just miss home... that's all. I know, we haven't even left port and I'm already bawling like a baby."

"I'm sure everyone else feels the same," The reddish-brown girl said in a comforting tone.

"I guess you're right. But still, I think I'm going to miss Ireland," The girl said as she tried to compose herself; she then extended her hand to Sasha. "Anyway, I'm Mina Carolina, in case you were about to ask."

"Sasha Braus, I'm your friendly, hospitable stewardess," joked Sasha as she shook hands with Mina.

"It's a big change for me, you know. Leaving my homeland to work in some dirty sweatshop in Philadelphia. I mean, I'm only doing this to help my parents get by, but I don't know if it's the right choice," Mina said as she wiped away the rest of her tears. "Do you feel the same way when you're working as a stewardess?"

"Well, this job isn't exactly a dream career, but I've had worse jobs; like when I worked as a barmaid back in my hometown of Dauper, Idaho. They threw me out when they caught me stealing food…" Sasha said sheepishly.

"Why did you steal food?" Mina inquired.

"First of all, I was hungry," Sasha began as she offered her explanation, "Second, they never gave me breaks during my shifts, which was complete bullcrap and not to mention they barely paid me at all!"

"That's terrible." Mina said sympathetically.

Sasha nodded as she continued, "Then, about eight months ago, I left home, moved to the East Coast and worked at an office job in Rhode Island. Sadly, I didn't get much fulfillment there, so I decided to move across the sea, settle down in Southampton and just supported myself for awhile. Big, expensive, mistake."

"And now you're a stewardess?" Mina asked.

"Yeah, basically," The reddish-brown girl sighed as she leaned against the bench.

"Honestly, I'm not sure if I have the foggiest idea of what I want to do with my life. Will I even like living in America?" Mina wondered.

"America's not so bad," Sasha said with reassurance. "I was born there after all, but don't take my word for it."

"You know, since this ship is going to New York, why don't you go and visit your family?" Mina surmised.

"The last time I saw my family, I got into an argument with my Dad. After that, I left home just to spite him," Sasha explained. "But my Dad does send me letters every now and then, so I guess he's not mad at me anymore."

"Well, I hope you do make up with your Dad," Mina said in a hopeful manner. "He probably misses you."

Sasha nodded in acknowledgement, "You may be right. I also kinda miss living in Dauper; I once thought of staying there for the rest of my life and start a potato farm. But things change the longer you live."

"Hey, are you okay there?" A ginger-haired girl with a ponytail asked with concern as she and a taller young man with a shaved head came up to the two young women.

"She's fine, she's just a little homesick." reassured Sasha.

"Ah, I get you. I still miss my village back in Belgium, but I try to stay focused on the good things that will come afterward; like my new life in America." The young man said hopefully.

"That's actually really helpful advice. I'll try to think about that." Mina replied with a satisfying grin.

"Sorry if we were budging in on you two," The ginger-haired girl said apologetically.

"It's okay, you were at least here to help cheer Mina up," Sasha replied.

"Hey, it's no big deal. Name's Franz Kefka, but, of course, you can call me Franz." greeted the young man.

"Wait, you mean, Franz Kafka, the writer?!" The reddish-brown stewardess said with excitement.

"No... who is that?" Franz inquired

"Oh, I thought you were him," Sasha said sheepishly. "He's not very well-known, yet. The man is very talented at writing, though; I've read some of the stuff he published beforehand."

The ginger girl chuckled, "Well, my name is Hannah Diamant. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Sasha, and I'm your stewardess during the rest of the crossing," Sasha said as she introduced herself.

"At least, we know we're being taken care of," Hannah smiled.

"So are you two together?" Mina asked.

Both Hannah and Franz blushed at the question as Franz replied, "Uh, no, not really. I mean... we both boarded at Cherbourg, and we also just met."

"We're not together, like the way you think of being together…" Hannah said sheepishly.

"I get'cha, I get'cha," Sasha said as Hanna and Franz sighed in relief as they awkwardly looked at one another while Sasha got up from the bench, "Well, if you excuse me, I need to tend to the other passengers. If you need anything, let me or one of the stewards know."

"'Kay, will do," affirmed Franz.

"See you, Miss Sasha." Mina said as she grinned and waved to the stewardess.

Sasha waved back as she made her way down the steps; she stopped halfway down from the Poop Deck when her stomach began to growl from her hunger. "Oh, no… not again, stomach. Why do you do this to me?"

The stewardess then pulled a bread roll out from her dress as she quickly scarfed it down before anyone noticed and continued onward with her duties.

As the ship was primed and ready to take on her crossing, Titanic's reciprocating engines received the required pressure from her boilers which activated her three massive propellers with enough steam to push her through the harbor. The Third-Class passengers on deck bid farewell to the port of Queenstown for the final time as the ship slowly maneuvered out of the channel; a prideful crew with a veteran captain at the reins of a metal behemoth, ready to take on the expansive ocean at full speed.

On board one of the tender boats that returned to Cork Harbour with a handful of Titanic's cross-channel passengers, Francis Browne, the Irish Jesuit and amateur photographer, seized his opportunity and raised his camera to snap the last few pictures of the ship with a content smile; this would be the last time that Father Browne would see this vessel in person, with only the timeless pictures to preserve his memories.

It is now the point of no return for Titanic, as she steams her way towards her destination, with no clear absolution to what will be in store for her during these next few days in her fateful journey through the heart of the Atlantic.


	3. The Crossing

**Chapter 3:**

**The Crossing**

* * *

_5 Years Earlier_

_Maria, England_

_March, 1907_

A young, dark-haired girl stood outside in the rain in front of an abandoned farmhouse. She glanced down at her dress that was spattered with red stains. Her palms had the same crimson coloration, which signified a struggle for survival. Sadness and trauma loomed over her like a black cloud and this exorbitant feeling of depression was amplified by the cold air.

The last few hours that she endured could only be described as a nightmare; her parents were murdered right in front of her by the men who abducted her and would attempt to sell her to human traffickers. Mikasa's friend, Eren, came to her rescue, but the effort the young boy made ended with the kidnappers having been stabbed to death by their captive and her liberator.

The dark-haired girl watched Eren from afar as he argued with his father. The taller man had brown, medium-length hair, a goatee, and round frame glasses as well as a brown suit with a wool poncho wrapped around his body; the man was Dr. Grisha Jaeger, Eren's father, who was the local physician in Maria.

The doctor, who arrived with the police after discovering the deaths of the girls parents, looked at his son with a worried and horrific guise, "Eren, do you realize what you've done?"

"What was I supposed to do then?! If I had done nothing, they would've been long gone with Mikasa before the police came!" Eren shouted as he debated with Grisha.

"You were lucky to be alive," Grisha sighed as the Chief Constable approached the father and son.

"Dr. Jaeger?" The Chief said. "I am going to need a statement from you and your son."

"Are you… going to charge Eren?" Grisha inquired.

"Well, since the lad is a minor, I don't believe that would be the case. He and the girl have claimed to have acted in self-defense," The Chief said as he looked down at Eren. "And as much as I commend you for your bravery, son, I won't condone this act of vigilantism; you do understand you could have been killed, right, lad?"

Eren nodded respectfully to the Chief, but was hesitant in doing so. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"I can assure you, Chief. He won't do it again, I promise you," Grisha stated.

"Good, now I need to have a recant of the boy's statement," requested the Chief.

"The boy has already told me everything; I can speak for him on his behalf," Grisha insisted.

"Very well," The Chief replied as he whistled another Constable forward. "Private, record this man's testimony."

"Eren, go and keep Mikasa company. We'll be leaving shortly," said Grisha as his son obeyed and walked over to Mikasa.

The girl stared at the ground for the longest time until Eren approached her; he noticed Mikasa's shivering as he unfurled the red wool scarf from his neck. "You're gonna catch a cold at this rate. Here, this'll keep you warm."

Eren wraps the scarf around Mikasa as she felt a cozy embrace from the piece of fabric; her cheeks blushed into a rosy red from the kind gesture. The boy, whose teal eyes were soft and comforting as he spoke, "Dad said that we're gonna leave in a little bit when he's done talking to the Constable."

Mikasa rubbed the texture of the soft scarf with two of her fingers; her eyes welled with tears from the overwhelming emotions that accompanied her small, fragile heart.

* * *

_Queenstown, Ireland_

_RMS Titanic_

_April 11th, 1912; 1:25 p.m._

As she walked across the B-Deck promenade that overlooked the forward Well Deck, Mikasa Ackerman took in the ambience of the Irish harbor as Titanic was due to disembark from the Emerald Isle to continue her imminent voyage in no less than five minutes. The girl reflected the old memories of her childhood in her head multiple times, almost like a drama play in the theatre as she was stuck in a relaxing trance.

The stewardess' moment of peace was short-lived, however, as she was interrupted by the tiny greeting of a little girl's voice. "Hi…"

Mikasa looked down to see a young girl with brown wavy hair who wore a small pink dress, dress shoes and a bow in her hair; she smiled at the older girl with a fair, innocent grin.

"You're really pretty," The little girl smiled as she complimented Mikasa.

"Oh, thank you," Mikasa smiled in response as she crouched down to the child's level as she supervised the young passenger. "Where are your parents?"

"Mommy, Daddy, and Trevor are behind me," The girl replied as she pointed towards the port side, the direction in which she originated from.

"Who's Trevor?" Mikasa inquired with a soft-spoken manner.

"My baby brother." answered the girl.

"What's your name?" Mikasa inquired.

"Loraine. Who are you?" The tiny girl asked sweetly as she introduced herself.

"My name is Mikasa, it's nice to meet you." The stewardess said politely as she gently held the little girl's hand with a warm greeting.

"Your name is pretty, I like it." Loraine chirped, which brought another smile from Mikasa; the little girl shifted her attention to the rest of the ship and gazed in awe. "The boat is really big."

"Yes, and you can get lost if you wander off from Mommy and Daddy," Mikasa said cautiously.

"Loraine!" cried a frantic female voice as a young woman in her mid-20s, alongside a slightly older man and another woman with a baby in her arms; the young woman, who Mikasa presumed to be Loraine's mother, quickly approached her young daughter with a worried disposition.

"Loraine, sweetie, I told you not to walk too far ahead." The mother said anxiously as she absconded her young child.

"Sorry, Mommy," Loraine said sheepishly.

"I am very sorry, miss. Was Loraine bothering you?" The man inquired to the stewardess.

"Not at all, sir. She was merely exploring when I found her." Mikasa said calmly.

"Well, thank you for catching her. We thought something would have happened to her when we weren't looking." The husband of the young woman thanked Mikasa; he then picked up the little girl in his arms and hoisted her onto his shoulder. "You hungry, sweetie?"

"Uh-huh…" Loraine nodded.

"Let's go to lunch, then." The man said as he glanced to his wife. "Are you ready, Bess?"

"Yes, just give me a minute, Hudson," The wife said as she turned to the woman who held her baby. "Alice, dear, you look tired. Let me hold onto Trevor for awhile."

The nursemaid nodded as she handed the cooing baby over to his mother. As soon as the parents picked up their two children, they entered the First-Class corridor through the open doorway, but just before they went inside, Loraine waved goodbye to Mikasa with a wide smile on her face.

The stewardess waved back to the 3-year-old girl and returned the smile. The nursemaid, Alice Cleaver, turned to Mikasa, "Thank you for looking after one of my charges, love."

"You're welcome, Miss Alice," Mikasa replied.

"It's hard to keep an eye on a baby while watching over a rambunctious little girl," Alice sighed as she spoke with a British accent.

"It comes with the job, I suppose?" Mikasa surmised.

"Yes, but it's even more difficult when the Allisons have a nervous breakdown whenever something happens to the children," said Alice.

"I've dealt with the same issues when I used to keep an eye on my adopted brother. He always got himself into trouble so many times," Mikasa reminisced as she remembered the times she, Eren, and Armin have spent in Maria, England.

Alice nodded as she looked up at the forward funnel that towered over the Bridge; smoke began to build up from the black tip of the yellow structure. "You know, it may as well be me, but I have a terrible feeling about this ship. It's as if we're here at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Well, Miss Alice, it's my job to make sure that the passengers are comfortable while they're on board Titanic. If anything doesn't feel right to you, then you can come to me or any of the crew members if you have any concerns at all." explained Mikasa as she assured Alice.

"I understand, but it's more of a hunch to me. Like there may be something ahead of us…" Alice said forebodingly.

"What do you mean?" The stewardess asked the nursemaid.

"Oh, it's nothing serious, really. I guess I'm just having the collywobbles after Southampton. Especially when we were nearly struck by that ship in the harbor before we left for Cherbourg." reminded Alice as she recanted the incident with the SS City of New York.

"I can promise you, ma'am, as far as I can tell, there is only the open ocean directly in our path." The stewardess said assuringly, hoping to wipe away Alice's doubts.

"I suppose I can take your word for it. But God only knows what is in store for us," The nursemaid said finally as she parted ways with Mikasa. "Anyways, I must get going. Goodbye, love."

Mikasa watched the woman enter the ship as the stewardess was now all alone again. The girl looked over to the horizon where Titanic would soon be making her way to New York within the week-long voyage. She glanced down at the Forecastle Deck where a couple of crewmembers, who may have been stokers on their break, were climbing down the small flight of steps and descended to the Well Deck. Titanic's whistle boomed with urgency, which woke Mikasa from her transfixion, allowing her to keep the pace on the busy deck as more passengers casually strolled by.

* * *

_Atlantic Ocean_

_3:30 p.m._

Titanic was now far from the shores of Ireland as she steamed west towards the eastern coast of America; her captain gave the order to Full Speed once she was far out into the open waters. Her boilers were fully lit, which brought the steam-powered reciprocating engines up to full power. The triple-screw propellers pushed the ship at a maximum speed of a little over 20 knots, the highest at which any vessel could maintain.

While the White Star Line's biggest steamship afloat was making headway for her maiden journey, the passengers that were recently collected from Queenstown have settled into their accommodations.

Annie Leonhart, a "missionary girl" who departed Queenstown and was bound for the United States, sat in the Second-Class Library; she quietly read her bible as she reread familiar passages over and over again, as if she intended to engrave them into her conscious. As she traced her unwavering attention along the lines of the pages, her observant ears picked up a conversation that occurred from the table behind her.

"Were you able to get a shot of Ismay?" A young man with a black bowl cut inquired to one of the two associates that sat with him.

"I've developed the film, like you asked, but…" A white-haired young man said hesitantly and laid out a couple of photographs on the table.

"But, what?" The dark-haired male analyzed the pictures and a look of dismay was mounted on his face as he let out an exasperated sigh, "These are too blurry! They're not gonna cut it!"

"Well, that's another opportunity gone down the crapper," A light-brown haired female with freckles said sardonically. "We miss this J.P. Morgan guy at Southampton, Boris sucks at photography… sure, what else could go wrong?"

"Don't listen to her, Boris, we hired you for a good reason." assured the dark-haired young man.

"Who said that I was offended by Hitch? She has a point." The white-haired young man named Boris retorted.

The dark-haired young man sighed with discontent, "Well, if we can't get a decent vantage point of the White Star Line's Chairman, then we'll have to get closer to him and get that interview from him."

"Sorry, no dice, Marlo. I've tried getting into First-Class, but the stewards won't let me through since I only have a Second-Class ticket," The young woman named Hitch explained. "I'm telling you, those guys are everywhere. They're like the royal guards at Buckingham Palace: They stand around all day and act like overglorified bouncers."

"So, that's it, then? There's no way to have our story if we don't have our ducks in a row." said Boris.

"We are certainly not going back to New York empty-handed," persisted Marlo. "We need to be the first to have the insight on White Star's goings-on and their rivalry with Cunard."

"Honestly, I don't see why you're so worked up on this story. All we're doing is interviewing a rich guy about some big company that he works for. It's not like it's the story of the century, just column filler." Hitch inquired.

"I don't think you fully understand, Miss Dreyse," Marlo explained with the utmost sincerity. "The White Star Line is one of, if not, the biggest shipping conglomerates around the globe! They're always putting out top-tier ocean liners that can sail at record speeds, such as the one we're sailing on right now!"

"Basically, if we do a cover piece on Titanic and the bigwigs that own it, we could earn a bit of recognition as reporters." Boris said simply.

"Well, what do I know about all that? I'm just an underpaid paper pusher who was dragged all the way across the ocean and back by two schmucks that I barely even socialize with, and who just so happen to work with me at the same office," Hitch snarked to her colleagues as she leaned back in her chair. "But at least I got to enjoy some leisurely time in London, so it's not a total loss."

"You know, there are plenty of ways to get around this ship without being noticed, in case you were wondering." Annie interjected herself into the conversation while she still kept her eyes glued to her bible.

"I beg your pardon, miss?" Marlo inquired with cocked eyebrow.

"I apologize for eavesdropping, but I thought I could give you a little advice, that's all." Annie said with an aloof and distant manner.

"That's… oddly nice of you to offer, random person that we just met." Boris said in an awkward tone.

"Oh, please," scoffed Hitch. "There's a catch that comes with your 'advice', right?"

The blonde quietly bookmarks her bible and closes it as she turns to the trio that sat behind her, "There is, but I'll get to that in a minute. My name is Annie Leonhart, it's nice to meet you."

"Marlo Freudenburg, reporter for The New York Times," Marlo said as he introduced himself before introducing his colleagues to the blonde girl. "This is Boris Feulner, he's our photographer; and this is Miss Hitch Dreyse, our…"

"Run-of-the-mill female sidekick/love interest, at your service!" Hitch announced with an over-the-top delivery as she stood from her seat and gave a phoned-in curtsy before sitting back down.

"She's our editor," Boris explained

"I see…" Annie replied.

"Since you have, unexpectedly, been following our conversation closely, I suppose you already know that we are trying to snag a scoop from J. Bruce Ismay of the White Star Line, who is here on the Titanic on its maiden voyage." The reporter reiterated.

"And you're wanting to get an interview for this week's headline, is that right?" The blonde girl asked.

"Yes. But since we're rookie journalists, we don't have a lot of access to any contacts or resources for our story." said Marlo.

Annie silently glanced at Marlo as she crossed her arms, "Well, as I've said, I'm willing to help you three out, but I have a proposition."

"Hold on a minute… first of all, why are you so interested in wanting to help with our story when we don't even know you in the first place? Second, what could you possibly want from us that would benefit you?" Hitch questioned Annie.

"It's not that I want to participate in your story, it is merely my volition to help others; at least, that's what I have been taught for most of my life," Annie said objectively. "I may also need a favor that could help me in the long run, should I ever need it."

"A favor?" Boris inquired.

"I don't have anything in mind at the moment, but if I help you and if you help me with another endeavor, then that would be square enough for all of us." The missionary girl explained.

"Doesn't asking for such a request negate the purpose of your selfless gesture anyways?" asked Marlo.

"You don't have to accept my help if it's not necessary; it was only a suggestion," Annie insisted. "I'm sure you can figure it out on your own, with or without me."

Marlo was about to deliver a response, but instead pondered on the girl's statement for a considerable amount of time. When Annie thought that the conversation was over, she picks up the bible from the table and quietly proceeds to exit the Library. Just before she could leave, however, the reporter stops her.

"Wait! I... believe we can work on a plan that will surely give you a part to play!" Marlo suggested as both of his colleagues each gave him a confused glance.

"How so?" Annie inquired as she raised an eyebrow.

"We could give you time to map out the rest of the ship, so that way you could find a way into First-Class without getting caught by the stewards." Boris surmised as he went along with this convoluted, but worthwhile, plan in motion.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Annie said agreeably, but was rather skeptical at the same time. "Although, depending on where you would possibly infiltrate that area on-board Titanic, it could use a little more coordination. Otherwise, you'd look like a fool when you give yourself away."

After all that was said and done, the blonde girl takes her leave. Marlo sat at the table and pondered as Hitch gave a strong sigh, "Woof, she's got a lot of grace, doesn't she?"

"She seemed out of place to me," Boris stated.

"I dunno about you, but I like her." Hitch smirked with admiration.

"One thing is for certain: She may be our best bet in getting to Ismay." Marlo proclaimed as he gave an ambitious grin.

"Huh?! Don't tell me you're actually gonna go along with it!" Hitch exclaimed.

"Yeah, Marlo, I wasn't even being serious when I came up with that plan to sneak into First-Class." The photographer insisted.

"Why did you even suggest it in the first place, then?!" questioned the reporter.

"I thought it'd be kinda funny, but in hindsight, it's just really depressing," Boris said nonchalantly.

"Well, if she's gonna get involved in your little crackpot scheme, then she can take my place," Hitch proclaimed as she got up from her chair and threw her hands up in submission before making her way out of the Library. "I am not gonna get booted off the ship for this crap!"

"Oh, no, you don't!" Marlo said forcefully as he grabbed Hitch by the collar of her dress. "You have a major role in this, as do me and Boris."

"Just because I'm an editor, doesn't mean I'm desperate enough to put myself on the line to get a story published," Hitch argued as she narrowed her eyes at the ace reporter.

"It's more than getting a story out; it's about the integrity that comes with delivering the facts to the public and getting the hard truth out of an important event as it is happening and so forth!" Marlo proclaimed as he went into a passionate tangent.

"And there he goes again…" Boris murmured to himself as he rolled his eyes at his coworker's ad-lib of motivation and all the nonsense that came with it.

"Admit it, Miss Dreyse, you've had your eyes on that Chief Editor position for the longest time! Surely, you must have an inkling of wanting to publish professional journalism because of that!" questioned the dark-haired young man.

Hitch chuckled, "Funny thing: I actually need this thing called money, and since I was pretty good on the typewriter, I got a job with the newspaper. Yet, I still struggle to pay my rent."

"Ah, but if we were to get the story on the Titanic and the White Star Line out into the public view, you could finally get that promotion, and all your financial troubles will lessen into nothing!" Marlo surmised, hoping to keep his female colleague on track.

"Hmm… still, it seems like too much of a hassle to trespass into the rich people section. But when you put it that way, sure, what could go wrong?" Hitch haphazardly agreed.

"Only if we don't keep tabs on our new friend, Annie, that is. But even then, we don't know if we can truly rely on her." Boris said cynically.

"How long do you think it'll take her until she finds us a short-cut into First-Class?" inquired Hitch.

Boris sighs. "I dunno, could be a day, maybe?"

"Well, until she can get us results, we'll just bide our time before we plan to make due with our appointment with Mr. Ismay!" surmised Marlo as he pressed his fist on the palm of his hand in determination.

Meanwhile, as Annie made her way down the Second-Class staircase, she runs into Reiner Braun, one of her traveling companions, on the way down to her cabin on E-Deck.

She then turned to the young man with her expressionless gaze, "Reiner…"

"Hey, Annie, I was just looking for you. Are you done with your bible study?" Reiner said as he politely greeted his missionary partner.

"I have," Annie said lowly. "I'm going below deck in a little while."

"Oh, so you're scouting the lower decks now?" Reiner inquired.

Annie stared at her companion with a sincere glance for a few seconds before proceeding down the staircase. "Tell Bertholdt he doesn't need to come, and that I can scout by myself."

"Right… be careful." The blond young man replied.

Annie continued to silently walk down until she reached the E-Deck landing as she repeated the bible verse in her head, _"'Honor everyone._ _Love the brotherhood._ _Fear God._ _Honor the emperor.'"_

* * *

_First-Class Parlour Suite (B-Deck)_

_4:30 p.m._

A scene within the elegant sitting room of the deluxe First-Class suite was set in a picturesque fashion. Flowers preserved in silver vases complimented the wooden paneling and the marble faux fireplace that adorned the room. The cushioned loveseat and chairs were arranged to be situated in front of the fireplace as a cozy reminder of the White Star Line's high standard of luxury, which made the residing passenger feel more at home even while at sea.

The door to the suite was opened by a rather posh man, who was dressed in his afternoon attire as he gave off a cheery vibe. His groomed, handlebar moustache hung over his upper lip like a mounted picture trophy; his enthusiasm traveled with him as he walked across the sitting room to the open doorway of the private promenade deck. He steps onto the outer deck and finds a small party of four, having their afternoon tea as they were seated in wicker chairs at a small table draped in a white tablecloth with teacups and a tray of finger foods.

Three men and a woman were conversing in hushed whispers as they spoke; the man entered and approached the party and greeted them with a polite gesture, "Ah, good afternoon, everyone! Enjoying Afternoon Tea, are we?"

The brown-haired woman at the table immediately showcased a grin to the man, "Mr. Ismay! What a surprise to see you! We thought you weren't going to join us."

"Yes, well, I thought I would retreat to my suite for some quiet contemplation," The man known as J. Bruce Ismay replied. "But then I had just remembered that I had company up here."

"Of course, thank you, Mr. Ismay, for allowing us to admire the relaxing atmosphere of your private promenade." The blond-haired man with bold eyebrows said to the White Star Line's chairman.

"Indeed, Colonel, there is nothing quite like the open sea that just captivates even the simplest of travelers." Ismay said as he gazed at the Atlantic waters outside the windows of the B-Deck promenade, before turning back to the passengers. "Pardon me, but am I becoming intrusive?"

"No, Mr. Ismay, we were already through with our tea." The blond-haired man, who was subsequently identified as Major Mike Zacharias, said politely.

"I see," Ismay raised an eyebrow, as he gestured to the open entrance into his suite. "Would any of you care to accompany me into the Sitting Room?"

Levi sighed as he rose from his wicker chair, "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, Ismay. I am needed elsewhere."

Erwin nodded in agreement while getting up from his seat, "As am I…"

"Well, I wouldn't mind staying, Mr. Ismay. In fact, I have a few things that I would like to discuss with you. Particularly, things about Titanic…" Hange insisted to the highly-ranked businessman.

"What about you, Major?" Ismay inquired to Zacharias, as he inadvertently rebuffed Hange's request, much to her grievance.

"Sorry, sir, but I also have other plans prior to dinner this evening." The Major replied.

"Understandable, however, if any of you gentlemen would like to join me for a game of Bridge sometime, it would be a privilege for me to invite you." offered Ismay.

"We will consider the invitation, Chairman." Erwin responded politely as he and Zacharias exited the Promenade through Ismay's suite while Levi stood by the door to the Suite as he waited on his female companion.

Hange cleared her throat as she eagerly approached Ismay. "Now, Mr. Ismay, seeing as how you own Titanic, perhaps you could let me…"

"Why, yes, Miss Zoë, Titanic is quite a splendid ship, isn't she? Our master builder, Mr. Andrews, helped build her from the ground up," Ismay said boastingly as he interrupted Hange once again.

"I have also marveled the ship's speed, which, I have to say, is moving very smoothly for a new steamer. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're trying to break a world record!" Hange suggested.

"Actually, she is built more for luxury, as well as her sheer size, which alone is quite enough to behold." Ismay explained.

"I know, right? Her very name speaks for herself," Hange chuckled awkwardly. "And speaking of which, do you think you could give me a private tour of the Titanic?"

"Which part of the ship, exactly, ma'am?" The chairman inquired.

"Oh, you know, the whole kit and caboodle! The boiler rooms, the engine room, the wheelhouse, the crow's nest…" The brunette woman listed as Levi rolled his eyes as he leaned against the doorway.

"You seem to be quite knowledgeable of the sort, Miss Zoë." Ismay said with intrigue.

"Precisely! And seeing as how this is a brand new vessel, I would like to know every single rivet that's holding this hunk of metal together!" Hange said intuitively.

Ismay chuckled lightly, "I admire your attention to detail, madam, but I can't have any of my passengers wander into certain areas that are strictly prohibited."

"Hmm… well, then, perhaps Mr. Andrews wouldn't mind giving me a tour, either." The eccentric lady surmised.

"Even if you did ask for his permission, I doubt he would give you the full run-around of the ship." The chairman insisted. "I would suggest sticking to the passenger areas and away from the heavy facilities below deck."

Hange adjusted her glasses as she gave a cocky smirk, "Ah, but I live for the heavy facilities, Mr. Ismay. One can't stop a curious mind, you know."

Ismay gave a confused stare to Hange before the latter proceeds to leave the parlour suite and waved goodbye as she waltzes out the door. The businessman, although despite being dumbfounded by the woman's odd mannerisms, brushed off the encounter and casually sits down at a wicker chair.

Levi, who was about to follow Hange, shares a brief exchange with the chairman, "It's like I always say: 'Women and machinery do not mix.'"

"Certainly her husband has an affinity for odd ladies like her," Ismay commented as he takes out a cigarette box, opens it, and pulls out a cigarette.

"Miss Zoë isn't married," Levi explained.

"Oh? Well, I suppose a good husband is hard to come by for her." Ismay surmised as he lit the cigarette with a match.

"Sure… it's not like any woman of her caliber has the choice to not find a suitable spouse for themselves, as they are more invested in their own respective fields than falling back to the normal standards of society." Levi said sarcastically as he took his leave.

The businessman shrugged and took a casual puff from the cigarette as he watched the ocean glide by the ship as it journeyed through the Atlantic, just as he envisioned in his mind. The ship that could only exist in dreams has finally been brought into fruition; Ismay couldn't help but congratulate the ones who made it possible for White Star.

The man wondered if Lord Pirrie, the leading shipbuilder of Harland and Wolff, had not been bed-ridden shortly before the voyage, he would've been able to see Titanic make her first rounds on the open ocean. At this point, however, it wouldn't make a difference as everything that the chairman of the White Star Line has conceived for this momentous occasion is being carried out in the hands of the best captain the company has ever known, which will increase the chances of another smooth crossing.

* * *

_Boat Deck (Port-Side)_

Armin hurriedly paced back and forth across the lengthy section of deck space as he tended to the passengers that were lounging on deck chairs as many were enjoying a relaxing afternoon out on the sun deck. He provided broth and hot drinks to the relaxed patrons while narrowly avoiding the people that strolled by him. A pair of children who were chasing each other in a game of tag, nearly ran into the young steward, who skidded to a halt as he almost dropped a cup of hot coffee.

"Hey! Be careful!" Armin called to the children, who stopped for a moment to apologize before continuing their game. He lets out a sigh as he went over to a First-Class couple who were standing at the bulwark railing, observing the open sea. "Lady Duff-Gordon, your coffee is ready."

"Ah, yes, thank you, steward." The woman thanked the blond young man as she took a sip from the cup.

"Steward, would you mind sending this letter to the Purser? I would like this to be sent by wireless." The man, who was known as Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon, ordered as he gave an envelope to Armin.

"Yes, sir." The steward replied as he walked towards the First-Class entrance.

The man's wife, Lucy-otherwise known, by law, as Lady Duff-Gordon, or rather, the famed fashion designer, Lucile-winced in disgust after sipping her coffee and calls the steward back, "Steward! My coffee has no sugar; take it back and have it sweetened."

"Yes, ma'am," Armin replied as he takes the cup of coffee.

He finally heads towards the First-Class entrance, which led to the Grand Staircase. As he enters the foyer of the Boat Deck landing, the first thing that he observed was the extravagant dome that crowned the ornate wooden staircase; the skylight that encased the dome naturally illuminated the room, as if one was climbing to heaven while ascending the gilded steps.

The Grand Staircase was Armin's favorite part of First-Class as it reminded him of a beautiful Victorian-era mansion that his grandfather used to fantasize about living in when he was still living. He gazed at the wrought iron and glass dome as well as the large crystal chandelier that hung in the center. The young steward walked alongside the balustrades as he took a turn at the wooden support column and began to descend the first flight of the staircase. Once he reached the central landing, the clock that adorned the angelic wooden carvings, "Honour and Glory crowning Time", chimed as another hour has gone by.

It was now 5:00 p.m.; in an hour or so, dinner will be prepared for the passengers. Armin grinned as he admired the intricate design of the lavish staircase, but immediately reminded himself to focus on the task at hand. He trots down the rest of the A-Deck stairway as he walked past the bronze cherub that wielded an electric torch as it was mounted on the post of the middle balustrade. The steward bypassed the B-Deck staircase and approached the C-Deck landing. He reaches the Purser's Office and delivers the letter to the Chief Purser himself.

"I have a letter from Sir Duff-Gordon that needs to be delivered through Marconi's radio service." Armin informed the officer as he handed the letter to the Purser.

"All right, I'll have it sent through immediately," The Purser replied as he takes the letter, inserts it into the recall tube and sends it straight to the Marconi Room.

"Now, I just need to bring this coffee back to the kitchen and have it sweetened before it gets colder." Armin said to himself as he quickened his pace and takes off down the next flight of stairs to D-Deck just and entered the Reception Room.

He was just about to head into the First-Class Dining Saloon as he was stopped by another steward, "Hold up, where on Earth do you think you are heading to?"

"I need to get to the kitchen to send this coffee back, straight away." informed Armin.

"Well, I'm surprised you weren't told, but the chefs are closing off the kitchen to prepare for dinner service this evening." addressed the steward.

"What?!" exclaimed Armin.

"I'm sorry, lad, but we are about to be ready in about an hour. However, I'm sure the Á la Carte may fix the coffee for you. Now, if you excuse me..." The steward mentioned as he went off to help set up for dinner.

Armin began to feel anxious as he needed to fix Lady Duff-Gordon's coffee, otherwise she may as well throw a fit. He heads to the elevators behind the staircase and enters one of the open lifts; he orders the lift operator to take him to B-Deck. The elevator slowly ascended to the upper decks, which only started to build up Armin's impatient tensions.

As soon as the lift doors opened up to the designated deck, Armin glides by the operator as he exits the lift. He takes a hard turn towards aft on the starboard side and straight past Midship to the Á la Carte Restaurant and Café Parisien, where it was mildly busy at the moment.

Once he enters the restaurant, he approaches a man who he assumed to be one of the waiters and asks him, "Is Mr. Gatti here?!"

The man, who wore a formal suit and had a handlebar moustache, turned to the blond steward as he raised an eyebrow while he spoke with an Italian accent, "Ah, yes, that would be me. Can I help you with something, signor?"

"Mr. Gatti, you may not know me, but I need to fix this coffee for a passenger! She needs to have it sweetened!" Armin explained as he handed the cup of coffee to Gatti.

"A coffee? Let's see?" Gatti dips his finger in the brewed liquid and tastes it; he had a sudden knee jerk reaction as he tasted it. "Mamma Maria! It's bitter and cold!"

"Well, it got cold on the way over here," Armin said sheepishly.

"Not to worry, signor. It is a simple fix. Paul!" Gatti called over to one of the kitchen clerks as he immediately came over. "Bring up a fresh cup of coffee, and add the sugar to it, yes? This steward needs to have it delivered to a passenger."

"Oui, Monsieur Gatti," The clerk replied in a French accent as he takes the cup to the kitchen.

"You wait here, signor, it won't be long until it is finished," Gatti informed Armin as the steward sighed with relief. The restaurant owner looked over and smiled as another man approached him. "Ah, Signor Andrews! What a pleasure to see you in my restaurant!"

Armin's eyes widened as he saw Thomas Andrews, the Titanic's architect, appear before him again. He struggled to keep his composure as Andrews shook hands with Gatti.

"How is the Á la Carte working for you, Mr. Gatti?" inquired Andrews.

"Swimmingly, very swimmingly! The service has gone well so far!" reported Gatti as he spoke with great optimism. "All the passengers love to eat here! To them it's like a little slice of Paris on the water!"

"Well, that sounds very splendid." Andrews grinned as he noticed the nervous steward looking at him. "Oh, hello there! Nice to see you again."

Armin jumped with shock and nodded anxiously while waving, "Hello, Mr. Andrews…"

"You know this steward?" Gatti inquired.

"He's the one who accidentally spilled tea on me yesterday." Andrews explained which made Armin flush with embarrassment.

"Tea you say? Well, I hope he doesn't spill the coffee on the passenger that he's going to deliver to." Gatti said teasingly.

The blond boy's face grew more red as he's reminded of his terrible blunder; Andrews notices this change of color, and reassures the young man, "Don't dwell on it, lad, it was just a past mistake."

"I understand, sir. It was kind of unprofessional of me," Armin said sheepishly.

"You are new on board, correct?" Andrews inquired.

"Yes, I'm Armin Arlert, in case you didn't know," The young steward introduced himself.

"Young Armin, you don't have to worry about being unprofessional. Soon, you'll get a grip on how to carry your duty and you'll be able to carry yourself in no time," Andrews said as he gave fruitful advice to Armin.

"I hope you're right, sir." Armin nodded in reply.

"The coffee is ready, Monsieur," The kitchen clerk said as he gave the fresh cup of hot coffee to Gatti, who tasted it and nodded with approval.

"Perfetto! Here you are, Signor Arlert. Be sure not to spill a drop on the way." Gatti warned the young steward.

"I won't, Mr. Gatti!" affirmed Armin as he turned to Andrews. "It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Andrews."

"The pleasure was mine, Young Armin." The Irish architect replied with a grin as the young steward left the Á la Carte in a hurry, but not so much as to spill the contents of the cup, while also having some new incentive in mind.

* * *

_Third-Class Open Space (D-Deck)_

_7:00 p.m._

Shortly after dinner, many of the Steerage passengers have gathered in the open area below deck, as they came together to dance and socialize in a modest but energetic party. Many emigrants chatted with a joyous vibe while they drank and danced as they pleased; party music of Scottish and Celtic origin blasted with frivolous cheer as a small group of mediocre musicians played on small drums, stringed instruments, accordians, metal spoons, and bagpipes. Some of the men played card games such as poker and gin as a recreational activity while the women either talked or danced with single bachelors or their loved ones. The men who danced were also hanging onto nearby poles as if they were tree branches.

A soot-covered Jean and his friend Marco came up from E-Deck after their shift in Boiler Room No. 6 as they walked into the Open Space to see the party in full swing, "Wonder what kind of occasion these people are celebrating?" Jean wondered.

"They're probably having a 'Bon Voyage' party," Marco surmised. "Most of them look pretty happy to be going to America."

"Yeah, I'll say, I wouldn't care about what I'm celebrating as long as there's booze involved!" Jean said with a laidback tone as he went over to the bar. "Hey, Bartender! I need a pint over here!"

"You should probably take it easy on the drinks, Jean." Marco forewarned his friend while the bartender slid a glass filled with cheap, frothy beer to which Jean catches.

"I'm taking whatever I can get out of my break Marco; if you wanna dance with a girl or something, be my guest." Jean responded as took a chug of the beer.

"All right, well, if you need me I'll be over here, somewhere," said Marco as his friend nodded in reply.

The freckled young man glanced around the room as he navigated around the crowded area until he sees another young man armwrestling with a boyish girl. He and a few others watched in anticipation as the two locked their hands with the strength that they could muster. In a decisive strike, the boyish girl slams the young man's hand against the table, knocking over a glass of beer in the process.

"How do you like that, boy?!" The girl shouted as the young man writhed as his hand was wracked in pain.

"No fair! Come on, two out of three!" The young man insisted.

"Sure, why not? I actually enjoy it when you whine like a baby." The tomboy grinned with satisfaction.

"Ymir! Don't be so cruel!" cried a small blonde girl who absconded her friend.

"What? I'm supposed to make him feel bad. That's literally the whole point of armwrestling." The girl named Ymir argued as she prepared the second round. "Like so…"

Both she and the young man tested their strength once again as their hands interlocked; this time, however, Ymir ends the round a lot quicker by using her maximum strength to overpower her opponent, tossing him onto the floor, which brought the entire table down with him. The men laughed and cheered as the young man was humiliated from the crushing defeat.

"Is he okay?" Marco asked Christa, the blonde girl, as she knelt down beside the fallen opponent.

"I'm sure he is, although I think he's a little embarrassed." Christa said as she and the young man's friend picks him back up.

"A little embarrassed?!" exclaimed the young man named Nack Tierce.

"Just walk it off, man." said his friend, Milieus Zeremski as he pulled his friend off the floor.

"Man, Ymir, that was crazy!" said Conny as he, Thomas, and Mina approached her.

"I never knew you were so strong!" exclaimed Mina.

"The way you flipped him and the table was just legendary!" Thomas added.

"Well, I don't like to brag, but I am pretty much the embodiment of Atlas, were he a woman." bragged Ymir as the others laughed with her.

Sasha Braus appeared as she observed the other Third-Class passengers having their bout as Conny greets her, "Hey, Sasha! You're just in time!"

"Hi, Conny. Wow, this is quite a shindig, isn't it?" Sasha inquired.

"It sure is!" said an excitable Mina as she turned to Marco. "Hey, do you wanna dance?"

Marco blushed but smiled in agreement, "All right, if you say so."

The dark-haired girl grabs Marco's hand and guides him to the center of the room as they both embrace each other and they start to jump and twirl to the uptempo music.

"Hey, is that Franz and Hannah over there dancing?" Sasha pointed to the other pair as they were spinning with the couples on the dance floor.

"Yeah, they've been getting along really well." Thomas commented. "They're kinda like a couple now."

"And they just met today, too…" Christa added.

"Well, why don't we join them?" Ymir insisted as she gently takes Christa by the hand and the two join the parade of dancing emigrants.

"You wanna join, Sasha?" Conny offered to the stewardess.

"Uh… well," Sasha pondered as she wasn't allowed to socialize with any of the passengers because of her position as a crewmember; although, in her mind, she wouldn't mind having a little bit of fun. After much deliberation, she finally decides. "You know what, why not?"

"Come on!" Conny smirked as he grabs Sasha by the arm and the pair begin to jump in with the other dancers.

Soon the band started to pick up the speed of the next Celtic folk song and the entire party grew even faster than ever. The people who were dancing were even more raucous than before. The pairs of dancers spun faster and faster as the other partygoers were clapping along to the beat.

As Sasha was pulled closer to Conny, she felt the room turn quicker, and soon she was pulled into a whirlwind of excitement. The pair danced like no one was watching; suddenly, Conny outstretched his arms and now he and his partner were spinning like a top. The Steerage passenger and his dance partner whooped from the sheer adrenaline. The ecstasy of the party was a lot to take in for the stewardess. So much so, that she began to feel queasy.

"Conny…" Sasha moaned as her stomach churned. "I don't feel so…"

"Huh… what?" Conny finally slowed down as he realized that his partner was not feeling well.

"I think… oh, my potatoes…" Sasha groaned as the bile began to build up. "Outta my way!"

The stewardess ran as fast as she could, shoving through the crowd of passengers so she could locate a more discreet place to vomit. As soon as the Irish tune ended, the entire gathering of emigrants cheered; the sound of Sasha upheaving could also be heard in the background.

"Oh… jeez," Conny grimaced as he fully recognizes hid faux pás.

"Good work, lover boy. You made the housekeeper throw up," snarked Ymir as she and Christa finished their dance.

"I'll go get her some water!" Christa said as she hurried to Sasha's aid.

Marco and Mina laughed after spending the majority of their time dancing, "That was really fun, Marco!"

"Yeah, I've never really danced with a girl before," Marco said sheepishly.

"It's too bad you have to spend more time in the Boiler Rooms." Mina said with a saddened tone.

"Well…" Marco was about to reply when Jean stumbled up to him. "H-Hey, Marcooo… did you… did you finally get a girlfriend?"

"Oh, Jean, what am I gonna do with you?" Marco frowned as he now has to deal with a drunk Jean. "Come on, let's put you to bed."

"Are-are you two engaged? Can I… be your… best man?" Jean hiccuped as Marco pulled one of his inebriated friend's arms over his shoulder and began to carry him back to their bunk.

"It was nice to meet you, Mina." Marco smiled as he waved goodbye to the Steerage girl.

"All right, take care!" waved Mina.

Jean chuckled as he leaned against Marco, "Oh, Marco… have I ever told you how… how proud I… I am of you…"

"What am I gonna tell Mr. Barrett?" The young stoker sighed as he went straight down the stairs to E-Deck.

* * *

_Boat Deck (Starboard-Side)_

Night has already fallen on Titanic as she spends her first night on the Atlantic and her second night on her maiden voyage. Eren Jaeger quietly strolled across the Boat Deck on this silent evening; he leans against the bulwark as he surveyed the open sea. Mikasa, who emerged from the preceding deck, sees her closest friend quietly standing alone. She walks over to the bulwark to speak with him.

"Eren…" said Mikasa as the young boy turned in her direction.

"Hey, Mikasa…" Eren replied, who was surprised to see his friend out this late in the evening.

"Armin told me you would be up here." Mikasa explained.

"Yeah, I've been spending time up here by myself." said Eren as he continued to gaze out into the dark horizon of the ocean. "I've been thinking lately."

"You've been thinking about joining the Royal Navy?" Mikasa asked.

"I've already made up my mind about that; what I want to know is what I have to do next," Eren continued. "I don't want to just join it blindly without knowing what I'm doing."

"That's what I've been worried about," Mikasa interjected as Eren faced her with a perplexed look, "You don't have any prior experience with the military at all."

"I know, but maybe I can learn more about it if I could only talk to Lance Corporal Ackerman and Colonel Erwin," Eren surmised.

"You know we can't socialize with the other passengers. We are only supposed to assist them, nothing more than that." Mikasa said strictly.

"What about Armin? He got to talk to Thomas Andrews twice despite being a First-Class passenger!" Eren argued.

"That's because Mr. Andrews is the builder of this ship, and he is more so our superior than just a regular passenger," Mikasa explained.

Eren sulked as he began to feel frustrated; he crossed his arms as he turned back to the ocean and leaned against the bulwark. The dark-haired girl approached the bulwark, joining her childhood friend in the ambience of the sea at dusk.

She tilts her head to face Eren while the chilly wind blew through her short hair, "Eren… whether or not you do join the Navy, I'll stick with you no matter what you decide to do."

The young boy shared a glance with Mikasa, "How are you gonna do that when they don't allow women in the military?"

Mikasa buried her face in her red scarf, "Not literally, I mean."

"No, I get it." Eren replied. "Before Mom died, you promised her to look after me, and I guess that's why you joined the Titanic as a stewardess."

Mikasa quietly gazed out into the sea as Eren continued, "You and Armin both have been my closest friends for the longest time. I am grateful that you two have stuck by me for the longest time. I wouldn't know where I would be if I had never met you both in the first place. So… what I'm getting at is… thank you for sticking by me through the years."

The dark-haired girl pulled the scarf down to uncover her mouth and looked at Eren again with a highlight of warmth in her eyes, "Eren…"

"Hey, guys!" Armin called out to the two as he appeared on deck. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"Armin, hey!" Eren responded to his blond friend.

"You guys aren't gonna believe what happened today! I met Mr. Andrews again!" Armin announced to his friends.

"You did? How?" Eren inquired.

"Well, long story short, I had to fix a coffee order for another passenger when I ran into him at the A la Carte restaurant." Armin said in detail. "He was really polite, but of course you already know that, and he gave me some advice on not to be nervous all the time."

"Did you show him your drawings?" Mikasa asked.

"Uh, no, I didn't have my sketchbook on me. But next time when I find him, I should show him! He might be impressed at my attention to detail on his new ship!" Armin said confidently.

"Armin, I want to ask you something." Eren inquired to his friend.

"What is it?" Armin asked.

"I want to get advice from one of the military men who are passengers on board, but I can't talk to them because the crew members aren't allowed to converse with the passengers. Is there any way around that rule?" implored Eren.

"I'm sorry, Eren. I don't know any way around that rule. In fact, I don't think it's a good idea to try and befriend any of the passengers," advised Armin. "Although, I guess it depends on which passenger you talk to, like Colonel Gracie or Colonel Butt or…"

"He wants to talk to Lance Corporal Ackerman and Colonel Erwin," Mikasa said nonchalantly which made Armin's eyes turn wide.

"WHAT?! You can't be serious!" The blond steward exclaimed in fear. "Do you realize how strict the Lance Corporal is?! He had to change his stateroom because someone forgot to sweep the dust in the room! And I doubt the Colonel will be any different!"

"I know, and they're the best example of disciplined soldiers," Eren explained. "If they have the experience, then I would know what to expect once I join the Navy."

"Please don't tell me you're gonna let him go through with it, Mikasa?" Armin turned to the stewardess who simply looked back at him.

"I might, but if it proves to be a failure, then it would be best to leave it be." Mikasa stated.

"Even so, if you tried to confront the Lance Corporal, he might have you kicked off the ship!" forewarned Armin.

Eren had a quick thought before replying, "Not if we were alone…"

"What?" The blond boy uttered.

Eren then took out a piece of folded paper and pulled out a lead pencil, "I am going to write him an anonymous letter and have it sent to his cabin tomorrow morning."

"A letter? That's just ludicrous…!" Armin exclaimed as Eren turned him around and wrote on the paper as he used his friend's back as a makeshift desk.

"Stay still, Armin," ordered Eren as he scribbled onto the parchment. Once he was finished, he folds the paper again and slips it into his pocket, "Done! I'll have to find an envelope to put this in so that it would look like another passenger had sent it to him."

"It's still very risky, Eren." Mikasa warned the young steward.

"Come on, Mikasa, have a little bit of faith for once," Eren insisted as he displayed a cocky attitude.

"We should probably turn in for the night, it's getting really nippy out here." Armin shivered.

Eren nodded as he turned to Mikasa and waved goodbye to her, "See you tomorrow, Mikasa!"

Mikasa gave a small grin and waved back as Eren and Armin went back inside; the dark-haired girl was isolated out on the Boat Deck, which was clearly lit by the exterior lights on board. She looked towards the sky for a brief moment as she witnessed the stars reflecting above her. She swept her black bangs across her forehead before retreating to the interior of Titanic.

Meanwhile, the ship itself still journeyed onward across the Atlantic. Her passengers are now completely accommodated and they can all finally rest peacefully as this particular night goes without a single event in sight.


End file.
